Trial by Fire
by TutorGirlml
Summary: Begins right where the Season 3 finale left off and imagines who was caught in the SUV explosion; whole team fic, but is Morgan/Garcia centric in places; Casefic as well as character drama The team tries to help their injured member and solve the NYC case
1. Prologue

(Hello everyone

(Hello everyone! Sorry it's been so long since I've posted, but hopefully you all will enjoy this new one. I'm picking up where the season finale left off and making a possible guess on what could happen when the show returns this month. I hope I'm wrong actually, but I've got a nagging concern for my favorite character, and it seemed there was a story begging to be written from my fears for him. So here goes…)

_(As always the show and the characters aren't mine, I'm just borrowing them.)_

Trial By Fire

Prologue

Hotch had sent them each on their own separate errands and the each member of the team had scattered to fulfill their own jobs. Derek Morgan drew in a deep breath, trying to calm his rattled, frustrated nerves as he twirled his key ring once around his finger before catching the set of keys more firmly in hand and striding forward to his black Suburban. He unlocked the door, then got in, letting out the breath he'd been holding and scrubbing a hand over his face. They were all already dog-tired, and he wasn't seeing much rest in the near future. This case was going to be a bad one – he could feel it.

It didn't help matters that he'd let his anger at Joyner cause him to challenge Hotch. He knew the other man well enough to know that he wouldn't really be carrying on anything inappropriate while working a case – but he hadn't appreciated being put in his place like an errant teenager. He had been in the right, and he didn't like feeling ganged up on when he expected his team leader to have his back.

Well, it was done now, and he had apologized for losing his cool. On to the next thing. He turned the key in the ignition and put the SUV in drive, pulling out onto the quiet, dark street, heading for the Homeland Security offices where he was supposed to update them on the turn their case had taken.

As he rolled up to a stoplight, the quiet, and now deserted the street suddenly seemed "off" to him. It was too calm, too dark and devoid of noises, lights, and other traffic. It was New York City after all, the City that never sleeps, and it made his defenses flicker to life as he immediately went on alert. Something wasn't right.

Alarm bells were going off in Morgan's head, and for some strange reason, he stopped and had just gotten the door cracked open to step out and try to figure what it was about his surroundings that seemed so out place, when it happened. For a moment the very air around him seemed to hum and vibrate, crackling over his skin like a living thing. Time seemed to freeze, to suck in on him, then rapidly expand…and suddenly the world exploded.

He was flung roughly from the vehicle and hit the pavement hard. It was as though he were on fire – burning all over his body – and it panicked him enough to try to roll and put it out. His alarm only lasted a second or two as the pain enveloped his senses and they gave way to a roaring in his head. Inescapable, overwhelming paralysis took over his limbs, and he couldn't think anymore about what had just happened. Everything went black and he lost all knowledge of the world.


	2. Chapter 1

(Thanks so much for the kind reviews I got for the prologue

_(Thanks so much for the kind reviews I got for the prologue! I love hearing any comments; it helps me know what I need to do with the story from there. I still don't own any of them, just this story. Enjoy!)_

Trial by Fire

Chapter One

The explosion could be heard for several blocks out, and the other members of the BAU team immediately snapped to attention, wherever they were. Each one of them wondering what had happened, how far away it was, and how fast they could get there, figuring it up in their minds. An awful gut feeling already had them suspecting it was one of their own.

Reid had been closest to Morgan – as, after talking to JJ, he'd been the last one to reach his vehicle and had been headed in the same general direction. It still took him a few minutes to arrive at the place where he had seen a burst of light flash up in the dark sky and had heard the sound coming from. He'd already called 911; knowing there had been some sort of explosion – quite possibly a bomb – and pretty sure that if anyone had been near, there would be casualties of some sort.

He was glad he'd acted ahead of time, because the sight that greeted him as his GMC rounded the corner onto the correct street stopped him cold. His huge, ever-ready brain stalled on him until he could finally kick it back into gear.

Throwing the vehicle into park and jumping out, Reid ran towards the form he saw lying motionless in the middle of the deserted street. "Morgan!" he yelled, unable to keep his voice from squeaking with fear and panic. "Morgan! Can you hear me?"

He reached his friend's unconscious body and knelt down, having known he would get no response, but even more unnerved all the same. This was _Morgan_; the older brother that constantly razzed him, but had always been there, always had his back, and always seemed to know what to do. The guy was practically indestructible in Reid's mind; strong, opinionated, tackling things head on and charging ahead. Reid realized suddenly, his stomach bottoming out, that he had started to believe that it was really the truth. He had honestly begun to believe that Morgan couldn't be physically beaten or seriously hurt. Now, looking down at the person who'd always been the very definition of badass, he saw how wrong he had been. This was bad, and he had never felt so helpless.

Morgan's right side was almost sickening; his arm, half his face, and all down his side as far as Reid could see looked charred. Reid knew the statistics on surviving massive area burns if they were severe enough, and it escalated the panic he was already feeling even more.

Trying to do something, he carefully searched the other side of Derek's neck for a pulse, desperately hoping there'd be one to find. Morgan might have been unconscious, but it was still clear that his body was rapidly going into shock. Reid did find a faint pulse, though it was more rapid than usual. Trying to calm himself, Reid took a couple forced deep breaths and focused on drawing back into his mind anything he'd ever learned about burn treatment. Morgan was breathing shallowly on his own, which Reid took as a hopeful sign. However, he could also see that these were mostly second, and even some third, degree burns.

Avoiding the remnants of Derek's shirt, which in some places was nearly seared into the open wounds on his chest and stomach, he gingerly removed Derek's watch before any swelling started and it affected circulation. He knew that trying to pull any other material away from the wounds might take skin with it and do more harm than good.

Rolling Derek gently to rest more heavily on his uninjured side, Reid carefully lifted his friend's arm to keep it above his heart as he'd read somewhere to do. And it was then, thankfully, that an ambulance came tearing up next to them.

Reid sagged with relief as the responsibility sloughed off his shoulders and onto the two EMTs who had come up and rapidly began to take over for him, working on his partner. He quickly relayed what little he knew of the situation and what he had done for Morgan while he was waiting for them to arrive.

Soon they had Morgan's long, muscled frame loaded onto a stretcher and in the ambulance. Reid tried to ride with him, but was told he couldn't since they needed room to work. He was left standing there drained and shaking as the ambulance pulled away again, sirens blaring.

It was comforting when Emily showed up before he had even figured out what he was going to do and ran up to him. She looked every bit as concerned and frantic as he felt and yet she already had him moving back to his vehicle to follow Morgan to the hospital, and was calling Hotch and JJ to let them know what had happened. Her no-nonsense, sensible actions, doing what had to be done, getting him moving again, were just what he had needed. Even if she were as afraid as he was, she could still project a sense of control and purpose.

On the way to the hospital, Reid found his knees jogging wildly, nervous energy making him unable to control the motion. He realized, blowing out a breath and trying to calm the way his fingers were trembling and his hands were shaking, that he needed to call Garcia. She was his best friend and he needed to talk to her. But beyond that, this was going to be an awful shock for her. She and Morgan were even closer than she and Reid – and it was better that she heard what had happened to Morgan from him than from one of the others, someone at the station, over the scanner, or one of her computers. The relationship Garcia had with Morgan was nothing like the one she had with Reid. Though Reid usually knew just about everything, he couldn't quite say what those two were to each other. But he knew he owed this to her. She would be terrified for Morgan, but she'd also want to be there for him as soon as she could.

Emily gave him a sympathetic glance as she saw the number he had chosen on the speed dial. That was one notification she was glad to let someone else make. It wasn't just Reid – they all knew that telling Garcia this would be as close to stabbing her in the heart as it could possibly get.

The phone rang four, five, six times before Penelope's groggy voice finally mumbled in his ear, "Hello?"

"Were you asleep?" Reid asked guiltily, feeling even worse about the way he was about to shatter her sense of security. "Are you already settled at the hotel?"

"Yeah, I'm here. I was chatting with Kevin on my laptop before I turned in. Sorry. I'm with you now. What's up, Buttercup?"

She did sound coherent again, Reid reasoned to himself. He hadn't wanted to tell her something like this when she didn't quite know what was going on. "Garcia," he broke in before she could start into the cheerful patter that tended to spill forth once she got talking. "Something's happened. There was a bomb…in Morgan's SUV. He…he was in it when it exploded. They took him to the hospital…but he was burned really badly and he doesn't…well…it doesn't look good."


	3. Chapter 2

(Hello everyone, I'm back with another chapter

(Hello everyone, I'm back with another chapter. I really wanted to get most of this story up before the new season premiere, but I don't think that's going to happen. Still, I've been so flattered and excited by all the nice and helpful comments this one's getting! Thanks so much and keep it up, letting me know what you think helps me try to keep writing a great story. As always, I don't own them, and now, on with the show!)

Trial by Fire

Chapter Two

Penelope Garcia was out the door within two minutes of Reid's announcement that Derek was hurt. She barely took a moment to sign off her computer; simply telling Kevin she had to leave, it was an emergency. "Reid," she choked out, her voice wispy with fear and panic, "stay on the line with me while I get there…please. What happened? Tell me how this happened to him." Her fingers were trembling horribly as she tried to lock her hotel room door. Her legs were shaking so badly as she tried to walk down the hall that they would barely support her. She needed someone to keep talking to her while she drove so she wouldn't fall apart. She should be there with Morgan already…

"Well, Hotch sent him out to alert Homeland Security about the change in our profile – how we now thought the unsubs were linked to a terrorist cell. The explosive must have already been in the vehicle. We don't know much else yet; we were all headed out somewhere right then. Was he targeted personally, or was it just coincidence that he got in that SUV and it could have been any one of us? We haven't been able to figure that out yet. We don't know enough of what actually happened. Derek hasn't regained consciousness since I found him." Reid's voice quavered a bit at this and he went silent over the phone line.

Garcia suddenly felt a pang of sympathy and her heart went out to her younger friend. "Oh, Honey Pie," she breathed quietly, "You found him after the explosion? …Are _you _okay, Reid?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just…" he stopped awkwardly again, not knowing how to continue without upsetting her more and not really wanting to relive the scene he'd encountered either. "He was hurt pretty badly, and I didn't know what to do with that. To see Morgan not jump right back up, dust himself off, and be ready to go again…it was sort of a shock to my system. I guess that even though what we do every day is dangerous…I let myself start thinking that nothing could touch him." He sounded as though he had sniffled just slightly over the phone, and Penelope's hands itched to rub his back soothingly, to be there in person to tell him he'd done fine, that he had helped Derek in every way he possibly could.

Reid in turn could hear the sound of city traffic that surrounded her vehicle as she navigated her way to him. All she did out loud was chuckle lightly at his words, agreeing. "I know what you mean. Our boy is always the tough guy, isn't he?" but her words went kind of flat at the end, as if they'd meant to be a joke but ended up sounding teary.

Reid knew that she couldn't bear picturing Morgan hurt any better than he had managed seeing it firsthand. Though he hated having her upset, the affect on her made Reid feel somewhat better; his stunned, helplessly disbelieving reaction hadn't been so ridiculous after all.

"I'm going to hang up now, Sweetie," Garcia said, breaking into his thoughts. "I'm almost there. I'll find you in a couple of minutes."

"Alright," he said, starting to hang up, then abruptly he put the phone back to his ear, calling out, "Garcia!"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful, okay?"

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Aaron Hotchner was now fighting every urge within him not to literally start pacing the waiting room like a tiger stalking powerfully around his cage. People had joked throughout his entire FBI career that he was wound too tight, but as JJ watched him practically seething in the corner where he leaned against the wall next to Reid, she didn't think she had ever seen him like this. He had been filled with guilt over sending his people into danger, and righteous anger and contempt for the unsub when Elle, then Reid, and then Penelope, had been hurt. But he had held it together to find the psychos and see that they were served justice. Now, JJ wondered, for just a second, if they were about to see their team's unshakeable rock start crumbling. And she couldn't help wondering why, and what they would do if he didn't lead them to find who had done this to Morgan.

Hotch had been the last of them to arrive here outside the ER – other than Garcia, who was on her way now. He wanted to take control of the situation, as it felt like the universe had suddenly jerked all control – and even sense – from his hands. But there was nothing he could do. One of his team was hurt, maybe dying, and he couldn't help feeling that they were being plagued this last year. Rationally, he knew the things that had happened to his team were simply the risks of a very dangerous job, yet he didn't feel like they were ready to go through something like this again.

He was already running possible suspects, unusual behavior, and tentative theories through his mind, and notliking what he came up with. He would have to discuss this with the rest of the team as soon as possible; but either the terrorists had drawn his team here specifically, or this attack wasn't from the cell they'd been profiling, but somewhere much closer, with Morgan the particular target.

Neither option was comforting, but the second served well to add fuel to his indignant fire. Who that they were working with – that they had come here to help – would have it in for his unofficial second-in-command? Was there any reason that someone would want to punish his team, or Morgan himself, here in New York? He didn't know, but he was certainly going to get to the bottom of it.

Figuring out whether this bomb had indeed been connected to their terrorist cell or not would be their first order of business – as soon as they heard whether or not Morgan would pull through. Nothing took precedence over that right now, and no one would be able to think straight anyway before they got some sort of an update. He wouldn't expect them to. Though they were federal agents; professionals, who saw death and dealt with danger day in and day out, Hotch didn't expect them to be robots who could function unconcernedly when one of their number was fighting for his life. In fact, he thought sometimes that their mental toughness, that protective armor they put on to get through the day, made them even more susceptible when something actually managed to crack through and hit them hard. He knew it was true in his own case at least. Each of these six people on his team had worked their way under his stern, impassive shield to his heart – whether they knew it or not. They were the only ones he had left who did. When one of them was hurt or endangered, he suffered himself and wondered what he should have done differently to protect them.

Reid had only offered that the burns on Derek's right side looked to be second – if not third – degree burns and fairly widespread as well. He'd already been going into shock and there hadn't been much the young genius could do for his friend while waiting for the ambulance to arrive. Hotch could see that Reid was a little shell-shocked and made a mental note to check on his youngest agent soon. But up until a few moments ago, Reid had been occupied on the phone with Penelope and Hotch figured that was just as well. If anyone could help him or make him feel better, it was Penelope Garcia. Plus, he wanted someone talking to her as she came to meet them. It was no secret to anyone that Garcia and Morgan had a special connection and that attachment and her worry for him could distract her and make her reckless in her hurry to reach Morgan now. He wanted all the remaining members of his team there in one piece.

Frustrated at the lack of news, he considered going to the nurse's station again to fruitlessly see if there wasn't some news of Morgan for them, but then told himself not to waste his time. He glanced across the waiting room to find JJ studying him curiously with that wide-eyed look she had that seemed to be a mix of reading what he was thinking and waiting for instruction all at the same time. If he didn't know better, he would sometimes swear their media liaison could see right through him. They thought alike, had very similar temperaments and professional habits, and she was much more perceptive than many people – even she herself – gave her credit for. He wondered again why she didn't want to take the test to become a profiler; she would make an incredibly skilled one.

Forcing himself to pull together his wandering thoughts and focus, Hotch shot JJ a very small half-smile, meant to be reassuring, and tried to find anything helpful to occupy his team until they got word.

A few more minutes passed, and then they could hear high heels click-clacking quickly, anxiously, down the hall, announcing that Garcia had arrived even before they saw her. She rounded the corner and came face-to-face with her team scattered about the waiting room, skin pale and her cheeks streaked with the residue of tears that she'd obviously just managed to rein in.

She came straight toward them, words already pouring out. "Have you heard anything? Have any of you seen Derek? Is he going to be alright?"

Hotch merely gave a small shake of his head. But JJ took a closer look at Penelope, seeing the way her lower lip was trembling, she had stopped moving forward, and her eyes were welling up again. Quickly, she stepped closer, caught her friend's hand, and pulled her to sit down in the chair next to her.

"We're still waiting," she said soothingly, hoping Pen didn't realize that she was putting on the calm façade she often gave reporters at press conferences, and local police officers when she first began to liaise on a case for the team. "But we're hoping that right now no news is good news. He must be hanging in there or they wouldn't still be working on him."

Garcia nodded as she sat down, her shoulders hunched, still clinging to JJ's hand in hers. Everyone else seemed to gather a bit closer around the two women, as if wanting to shield Garcia. Her emotionally open response laid bare what they were all feeling inside, making them even more anxious to help despite there not being anything they could really do.

Prentiss crouched in front of her, resting her hands on Penelope's knees to balance as she tried to peer up into her friend's face, asking if she could get her anything, some water or coffee at least. Penelope just gave her a watery smile and shook her head no. Reid rested a quiet hand on her shoulder, edging up to her other side.

Rossi looked on without comment, only once exchanging a loaded glance with Hotch, wondering if their team had taken one hit too many this time, and if they were going to pull back together and recover, or break and fall apart. He thought to himself, though he knew he would never voice it, two very concerning things. One, even Hotch had lost his composure and decisiveness with this, as if suddenly not sure where to lead them from here. And two, the seemingly clearest suspect was the woman whose job Morgan had been in a position to endanger; a woman who was on their side and that Hotch seemed surprisingly friendly with. Rossi knew Aaron Hotchner too well to think that the gifted profiler and team leader hadn't considered this possibility. What he didn't know was if his superior could impartially study the evidence as he always had in the past, or what Hotch would do if proof laid the blame where circumstances made his mind tend to go.

Before that train of thought got much further however, Rossi found his musings interrupted by a doctor entering the room and coming toward them, the look on his face discouragingly grim.


	4. Chapter 3

(Thanks a million to everyone who has been faithfully reading this story and giving me your feedback; it's hugely appreciated

(Thanks a million to everyone who has been faithfully reading this story and giving me your feedback; it's hugely appreciated. I'm so excited to finally find out tomorrow what's really happened in the "Criminal Minds" world since we were left with the explosion in May, but for one more day I'm going to happily live in my imagination! Hope you all enjoy the chapter. And of course, they don't belong to me. They never have and sadly they never will.)

Trial by Fire

Chapter Three

David Rossi found he was slightly surprised when Hotch squared his shoulders and stepped forward to meet the doctor, all calm professionalism and a leader in complete control once again. The older man had thought that the rest of the team – Aaron included – might want him to guide this conversation, being less personally involved, but he checked himself and stayed back. Obviously their team leader was rattled, but he was pulling it back together and reasserting himself; soldiering on as he always did, knowing the rest of his team needed him more than ever if they were going to come through this as a unit, be there for Morgan, and find the person who had put him here. Rossi wasn't going to be one to stand in the way of Hotch's necessary action, even if he had been willing to shoulder the brunt of the case for him this one time.

"Are you here for Agent Morgan?" the doctor asked, giving the group clumped before him a cursory glance over, thinking they looked like an awful bunch to get on the wrong side of. And he knew they weren't going to like the news he had. However, he had been a doctor long enough to be used to delivering news people never wanted to hear. Putting off the inevitable never helped anyone, and by now he simply gave the prognosis and told his patients' families and friends what he had to – as honestly and sensitively as possible.

"Yes," Hotch answered, stepping forward to firmly shake hands with the doctor. "I'm his team leader with the BAU. What can you tell us?"

"I'm not going to lie to you, your agent has sustained serious burns over a large percentage of his body and is in critical condition in our burn unit. He has yet to regain consciousness, and we're keeping him sedated at any rate, because were he to wake up right now, he would be in a significant amount of pain. Much movement could easily cause further skin damage beyond what has already occurred. He's going to need numerous skin grafts – and that's after we get him conscious, make sure no infections set in, and see that there isn't nerve damage, which is a distinct possibility."

He stopped to draw a tired breath, and Garcia found herself mutely shaking her head, thinking that there couldn't still be more, gripping on Reid's hand beside her as tightly as he was clinging to hers. But the doctor wasn't finished, still looking directly at Hotch as he continued, "It's hard to know right now how much of the damage can be repaired and how many other bodily systems might be affected due to the extent and severity of the burns. There will also quite probably be a psychological fallout due to the cosmetic aspects – depending on how much permanent damage is done to a person's looks when something like this happens, and how much of a change it is for them. There will be a lot of physical therapy after the skin grafts to regain motion and test the strength of the healing areas. But all of that later work depends immediately on him just getting through the next 36 hours without his body shutting down or going into shock again. There is cause to be cautiously optimistic about at least that much, as he's hanging in there for the time being. It looks like he's fighting to stay with us; we've got him stabilized and he is in excellent physical condition for the battle he's beginning. I just want you all to be aware that there is a long road ahead. Life may be very different for Agent Morgan from now on. Field work may forever be a thing of the past, we'll just have to wait and see. At the very least, he's going to have a lot of pain for quite some time and be dealing with some volatile emotional terrain as well."

The six people listening to him were silent for several long, sobering minutes, taking in what they'd been told, then Garcia broke in hopefully, "Is it possible for us to see him?"

The doctor focused in on her, seeing how brightly dressed and fun she must usually appear, but how fragile she looked at that moment. Her question seemed calm and simple, but he knew she was fighting down emotions she barely had under control and he wasn't going to let her in for more than she could handle, painful as his honesty might be. "You may visit him, certainly, but, I have to caution you that he probably will not know that anyone is there with him at this point. He's in critical condition, and still at a huge risk of infection, so you have to be "scrubbed in" so to speak; follow precautionary measures so as not to increase that risk."

Hotch intervened at this point, seeing that Garcia and at least Reid as well, were not a bit deterred. "We understand the realities of the situation, but if we are willing to follow your instructions, is there a possibility of one or two of us seeing Agent Morgan for a minute?"

"Yes, it is allowed. As long as you remember to keep it to one or two visitors at a time in very short shifts."

"Thank you," Hotch nodded curtly and turned back to his team. No one seemed to have any argument when Penelope and Reid immediately stepped forward to go with a nurse the doctor had called over to take them to get prepped for entering the burn unit.

"I'll stay here and wait for them to come back, catch any more updates from the doctors, and maybe check in on Cooper on the next floor and brief Detective Brustin on what's happening now. Then when Reid and Garcia are ready, we'll meet you back at the station?" Emily volunteered.

Hotch gave her a grateful nod and turned to JJ next, dark eyes glinting intently as he studied her open face before asking, "Can you be ready for a press conference in time to make the morning news shows in a few hours? If we could get even a basic explanation circulating on the major networks, we should be able to halt the string of panic and conjecture that might spring up otherwise. The public is sure to have found out by now that there was an explosion in the middle of the city – that coupled with the shooting spree we've already been experiencing is going to be hard to keep a handle on."

JJ agreed, letting him know that she'd have the press conference ready, and she , Prentiss, and Rossi circled closer to their boss almost instinctively, as Emily spoke again before the other three could leave. Her voice was quiet, but urgent with the question that had been plaguing her, "Call me crazy, but does it seem more than likely that this wasn't our terrorist cell at all, but someone closer to us?"

Rossi and Hotch came very close to responding in unison, and if the situation had been different, it might have made JJ and Emily laugh. Rossi smirked slightly and took a step back, glad that it seemed his superior was thinking as sharply as ever even through the strain. It seemed once again that this team had more reserves left than he had expected. "That's exactly what it looks like," Hotch answered grimly, "and we all need to meet about it _the moment _you three get back to the station to meet us."

Emily jerked her chin sharply, a quick surprised assent that they seemed so definite in their suspicions but not doubting them for a second. Then her three teammates were gone, and Emily Prentiss sank deflated back into the hard, plastic waiting room chair to wonder what in the world had happened.

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Penelope sucked in a quick breath of surprise when she first stepped into the sterile, seemingly all white room. Different machinery seemed to be humming and whirring from all over and around, and she shivered with a chill that she couldn't quite blame on temperature more than the frightening situation they all suddenly found themselves in. She stepped forward slowly, hesitantly, not sure what to make of the sight before her.

Her first real sight of Morgan pulled her up short. She wanted to reach out and touch him; to feel for herself that he was breathing and let him know that she was there, but she found that suddenly she couldn't move at all. After a few seconds, she managed to shake off her paralysis and, taking a nervous, glance back at Reid behind her, stepped into the room and up to Morgan's side.

Standing next to his bed, Penelope couldn't help the way tears pricked her eyes again when she looked down and saw just how much of his side was covered with open, blistered, or charred skin. "Oh, Derek…" she breathed, for one of the few times in her life too dismayed to even have any words to fight it with, "…Baby…" Reaching out, she ran her cool hand over his forehead and down his arm on the unburned side, lightly caressing the lion tattoo on his shoulder and bicep that had been unaffected. Blinking rapidly, she tried to draw strength from that picture of such a strong creature inherent within him. He was strong enough to fight this; she knew what he was capable of and she wasn't going to believe that after all he'd come through in life, this senseless attack was going to defeat him. Finally, her fingers left the inked picture and skimmed down his forearm to clasp his hand in hers.

Reid cleared his throat awkwardly, still standing at the foot of the bed. "Hey, Morgan," he blurted out in greeting, starting to stuff his hands into his pockets, then realizing there weren't any in the scrubs he now wore, finally crossed them tightly around his lean torso. "We just thought you should know that we're here for you, and we're going to catch the guys who did this."

Garcia nodded to him appreciatively, picking up the conversation thread when he trailed off. "Yeah, Hot Stuff, you know you want a chance at this bastard when we bring him in for questioning, so you had better pull out of this."

Reid couldn't stop the surprised bark of laughter that escaped him at her words, and somehow that made Penelope feel better. If only she could feel like Derek had heard her and could laugh along with them.

It was just about then that the same nurse who had brought them to Morgan's room peeked back in to tell them it was time for them to leave. "For now, we really have to keep the visits to a couple of minutes," she explained apologetically.

Reid turned to follow her out, but Penelope found she couldn't quite tear herself away yet. Finding herself alone with him for a precious minute she couldn't help wanting to lean down to kiss his cheek. She suddenly felt that it was going to be all she could do to leave him here like this, even if she was coming back as soon as she could. Her soft lips touched his skin so lightly she hardly felt the contact. "Please hang in there. This Goddess needs her Knight in Shining Armor," she whispered, wondering where the sentiment had come from even as she said it. She hadn't thought that she still held that particular view of Derek Morgan, not since she'd had a boyfriend of her own. But realized right then that the feeling was as real and true as it had ever been. "I'll be here every step of the way. Just keep making your way back, alright? You know that I love you."

She had started to step away reluctantly, still holding his hand, when she froze with a gasp of surprise at the weak pressure of his fingers closing around hers.


	5. Chapter 4

Hey all! I am sorry that I've left you hanging so long with this story! It certainly wasn't intentional. Real life has a way of stealing from my writing time that I really don't like. Also, seeing the season premiere got me off track for a while. I'm going to go ahead and finish this the way I intended –even though I now know just how far off base my guess was! I hope you will still enjoy it and let me know what you think. As always, I don't own "Criminal Minds" or any of the characters, I'm just playing with them!

Trial by Fire

Chapter Four

Hotch, Rossi, and JJ had returned to the New York field office, and JJ had gone to find a camera crew, the proper officials, and manpower for the press conference she hoped to give within the hour. Knowing that she could easily handle her given job without their trying to help and getting in the way, Hotch and Rossi simply watched her go to work. She was the best at facing the crowds with a calm, appealing face and letting them know only exactly what her team wanted them to. Even no longer than he had known her, Dave Rossi was certainly impressed by the pretty media liaison who was fresh faced and innocent, but could be as hard as nails and sharp as a tack when facing that horde of vultures with cameras wearing a smile. It was a job he had never imagined the BAU needing, but it was easy to respect just how good Jennifer Jareau was at her job

The two senior member of the team then settled down to kick around the theories they'd formed on the now very personal case. "I hate to suggest this, Aaron," Rossi began somberly, "but I think you've already considered the possibility…"

"That we should look into Kate's activities and motives?" Hotch asked bluntly, eyebrow cocked expectantly as he tried to read exactly what the other man was implying – even though he knew he was right. "Yes, we'll need to check her out. Obviously, if Morgan was targeted personally, she has the clearest motive I can see. I can't imagine her being a true suspect, but we can't ignore it either."

Rossi nodded, knowing Hotch meant what he said, and the he wouldn't protect his friend from investigation for personal reasons. The elder profiler wouldn't have really had any reason to suspect either, if Morgan hadn't stood to get her job if she failed to bring the case home. That circumstance and her neglecting to yet come to ask them how Morgan was, seemed just a bit too fishy to completely ignore, even if they just followed the trail to a completely expected dead end.

"What do you think are the chances of Morgan simply being the one who happened to get into the SUV our terrorist cell had rigged to take out any one of us?" Hotch wondered aloud, obviously wanting to work all angles, and certainly ones that were more comfortable to consider.

"Fairly high, I'd guess," Rossi responded. "This group's whole MO is random violence and panic. None of the people they've shot so far has had a personal connection; they were merely in the wrong place at the wrong time. They clearly know that we're here and wanted make sure we didn't keep them from reaching their target. It suits the profile more for them to have gone after any one of us – knowing it would set back our investigation and add to the city-wide panic. It's in line with their purposes and prior behavior. So where does that leave us? We're not any closer to finding members of the cell than we were."

"True, but JJ's about to out their organization on national TV and open up the tip lines. Something will come in. No matter how well these sorts of groups are run, someone always sees something; a leak happens eventually, someone slips up. Plus, now we know what we're dealing with. We didn't realize it was terrorism we were onto until this attack had already been put in motion."

Rossi nodded quietly, admitting the point, and they both fell silent for a moment, thinking. Then something entered Rossi's memory – slowly, creeping in like a niggling, crawling itch. He looked back to Hotch and spoke in a low voice, looking to make sure no local officers could hear them as he did, "Unless we feel this was centered on Morgan, but not tied to Kate at all…"

"Where are you headed with this, Dave?" Hotch asked, brow furrowed deeply as he pushed for further explanation. "You've already got someone in mind, so let's hear it."

"It strikes me now that when we were at the first crime scene we visited for this case, with Detectives Cooper and Brustin, it was highly personal thing for Brustin. He had been around during Son of Sam's spree, was obviously bitter that unsub had never been caught, and accused us of not being involved enough – not taking it personally. Morgan let him know that it was personal to us; came right back at him. It seems to me now that he was incredibly fixated on something he should have put in the past, and took it as sort of a personal mission to have us see it his way and care just as much."

"So you're saying he planted the bomb in retribution for Morgan arguing with him?"

"No, I'm saying he attacked Morgan to make sure we all were personally involved. We were hitting brick walls, not finding anything. He didn't want it to be just another case for us and for this to go unsolved like his case in the past. Brustin could have done it to force our having a stake in the outcome."

"He was counting on us assuming it was a random strike from the cell?" Hotch clarified, considering the possibility from all angles.

"Well, haven't we pretty much done just that?"

"Point taken," Hotch nodded. "So we'll check him out as well. It's a stretch, but still worth investigating."

They went back to discussing ways they could get closer to or draw out the cell until JJ's press conference came on the TV and they stopped to watch. Naturally the reporters were rabid for more than she told them, but JJ never lost control of the whole dialogue. She had them right where she wanted them. Soon, she was off the TV and walking up to them, followed not long after by Emily and Reid. Reid informed them that Penelope wouldn't leave the hospital yet. If anything changed with Morgan, she wanted to be there.

It wasn't much longer before the phones began ringing with either tips, or people who thought they had tips, and it was all hands on deck to answer them. Each team member could only hope that something useful would turn up with the next call they answered, so they could crack this case before things got any worse.

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Penelope Garcia sighed as she let herself fall, bonelessly weary, into one of the hard, lumpy armchairs in the bland waiting room. She'd been relegated here, supposedly for the rest of the night, as visiting hours were over and she wasn't family. Honestly, she wasn't sure she could wait that long before checking on Morgan again, and no one was going to stand in her way if she felt like he needed her. She leaned her head back against the wall behind, closing her eyes for a moment as she tried to absorb the way her world had suddenly tilted on its axis in the last few hours.

With her eyes closed and the room quiet and empty around her, she felt just a couple silent tears leak out of the corners of her eyes that she didn't bother trying to wipe away. It should have been comforting to feel his hand squeeze hers back just before she'd left him, but even that hopeful sign didn't erase the trauma of what she'd seen. She didn't know what she had been expecting to see when she entering Derek's room, but it certainly hadn't been that.

He was hurt even more seriously than she had imagined, and it made her want to cry, be sick, and scream all at once. The sensible part of her brain tried to tell her that it could have been even worse, that Derek could have died in the blast, but positive thinking was not working for her at the moment. She couldn't get over how much damage there was, how much pain he'd be in when he woke up, and how it would kill him if he didn't heal and couldn't be in the field again.

Looks were of little value to her; he would always be the most handsome man she'd ever seen, not just because of his physical assets, but because of his beautiful soul. This couldn't change that. But she was worried for him. Derek wasn't vain or shallow, but he had also always had his looks going for him. Part of his confidence and outgoing nature had to come from that. Would he feel that he was less himself if these scars didn't fade?

Penelope didn't have any answers, and as she sat there, miserably forlorn and alone, since the rest of the team had gone back to work to catch Derek's attacker, she felt incredibly helpless to do anything for him. The fears and worries swam fuzzily around in her head for several minutes until nearly midnight, when she fell asleep sitting up.

It seemed only seconds later when a gentle hand lightly shook her by the shoulder. Blinking owlishly as she tried to get her bearings back, Garcia saw a nurse standing before her and remembered where she was. Straightening up fully, she winced at the sharp pain in her neck from sleeping with her neck bent back so far.

"Agent Garcia?" the young nurse asked kindly. "Are you alright?"

Garcia nodded, pulling herself back together and pushing her glasses back onto her face the way they belonged.

"Technically visiting hours don't resume for several more hours," the petite little brunette whispered conspiratorially to Garcia, "but I got permission for you from the night nurse. Agent Morgan is awake, and he asked for you…"

Those words were all it took for Penelope Garcia to be instantly, fully, awake. The younger woman trailed off as Garcia bolted from her chair, ready to be at his side again that very minute. "He's awake? When did he wake up? Has he been alone long? Is he doing any better?"

The nurse followed Penelope back down the burn unit hallway that was rapidly becoming familiar to the FBI's computer maven, realizing that this formidable blonde woman was heading back for her friend's bedside with or without further direction. "Just remember, ma'am," the nurse said as they reached the door to Morgan's room, "you're being allowed to see him despite normal protocol. He's asking for you, so we hope you being with him will help keep him calm and at ease. Don't tire him or let him get agitated, or you'll have to leave. The doctors are still cautiously optimistic for his recovery, but it certainly isn't the time to push his limits."

Penelope nodded impatiently, wondering if they thought she was stupid, but upon entering the room, her irritation vanished. She once again saw her friend lying there and forgot everyone and everything but Morgan. She was so used to his constant motion and flirtatious smile that tears and a pain so sharp it clawed up her throat until she could barely breathe hit her again, when he obviously heard the door open at her entry and only barely moved his head on the pillow, eyes sliding across the rest of the distance to find her. He was still groggy and also probably raw and sore enough to not be moving more than he had to. Still he brought his hand up off the mattress just a few inches, so slowly and cautiously that it physically hurt Penelope's heart to watch. His voice cracked roughly when he spoke to her, sounding as rough and pained as the rest of him instead of that silky, masculine, smooth-as-butter voice he usually tempted her with. Still, it did her good to hear him say, "Hey, Baby Girl…come here…I missed you…"

She was already moving toward him – even before he'd spoken. His eyes were speaking volumes to her; things that she had never thought he would think or feel. He was scared. She could see it there on the edges of his gorgeously expressive coffee-colored eyes. Panic was swimming there on a face that she had never seen show fear. She had seen him worried and angry in Georgia when they'd had to watch Tobias torture Reid. She had seen him hurt, ashamed, and betrayed in Chicago when he'd confronted Carl Buford and the childhood demons he had tried to hide. She had seen him full of guilt, horror, determination, and honest caring when she herself had been shot and he'd stayed with her, taken care of her, and promised they'd get Battle for hurting her. And there were all the countless times she'd seen those sultry eyes of his lit up in play, surrounding by laugh lines as he teasingly bickered with Elle, or now Emily, gave Reid a hard time, or flirted shamelessly with her. But she had never seen the fear that she saw in them now.

Reaching his side, Penelope took Derek's good hand he held out in hers and squeezed gently. "I'm here, Sugar. Right here. It's good to see you again. I missed you too." Not trusting herself to say much more, she swallowed hard and braved giving him what she hoped was a convincing half-smile. With her other hand, she reached out to trace cool fingertips over his forehead and down to lightly curve against the uninjured side of his face, cupping his cheek in her hand.

Morgan shook his head, frustrated, and gave her a searing look, one not at all diminished by his injuries or his weakened state. "Don't give me that, Pen," he whispered, his voice barely a rasp and yet somehow still managing to sound commanding. "I know it's bad. Am I dying, or do I just look that bad? What happened?" The anxiety-driven determination stayed in his eyes as he pegged her and she couldn't look away or evade his question either.

Sighing, she laced her fingers together with his where they held hands and drew in a steadying breath. "Do you remember leaving to go notify Homeland Security? There was a bomb in your SUV and it exploded. You were lucky to even get out. Reid found you. You've been burned pretty badly, but the doctors think you're hanging in there. I'm not supposed to let you get all worked up though, or they'll kick me out. So just relax, okay? You're going to be alright."

He nodded and was quiet for a moment, then responded, his voice so low she had to lean over him closer to hear. "I remember heading out. I remember thinking something wasn't right as I was driving, and slowing to down see what was wrong. I had the door already open when something threw me out. That's all." His hand, grip still warm and firm, now returned the pressure she had been giving, and it gave her a small bolstering bit of courage. Derek was such a rock; always ready, barreling ahead, getting things done and keeping everyone else safe. It was an unsettling turn of events – she wasn't used to being the strong one for him. But she was going to manage it. Starting right now, there was no question in her mind. Even if she felt inadequate, he'd always been there for her and she was going to do the same for him.

"You scared the bejeebers out of me, Handsome," she chuckled quietly through her nerves and emotion. "You'd better not ever dare come that close to dying on me again, or I'll kill you myself."

Humor glinted fleetingly through his eyes for a moment, and he almost laughed, but then winced at the pain that must have caused. Immediately she felt bad, reaching out to somehow try to ease the hurt, then ineffectually letting her hands flutter to her sides when she realized there wasn't anything she could do. Grinning lopsidedly she added, "Sorry. I know, I shouldn't have made you laugh."

This time his eyes definitely twinkled, but he wisely spoke softly again this time, his face growing serious again. "Guess you'll have to find another nickname for me, Goddess," he whispered, looking troubled, is next word confirming her fears in the waiting room before he woke up. "I'm sure I look more like Frankenstein's monster if this looks half as bad as it feels."

Her eyes softened, tears threatening again and knowing now was not the time to let them fall. "Derek, don't you even be thinking like that. Trust me when I tell you that it's going to be fine. You're going to heal. And you're the same man you've always been. Fire can't change that, injuries can't take that from you – nothing can. I'm looking right at you and I still see the amazing chocolate god I always have." She searched his eyes until she was sure he was really hearing her. "Do you believe me?"

He didn't look completely convinced, but grateful and appeased for the time being at least. He nodded, murmuring, "Sure I do, Angel."

"I think you need to get some rest," she added. "I don't want to keep you from getting your strength back." She turned, "Do you want me to leave you to sleep for awhile?"

But he reached out and caught her hand again. His grip tightened on her and she realized he couldn't let her go. "Stay," was all he said, sounding like it cost him to be so desperate, but it melted her, made her feel needed and like maybe, just maybe, she was enough to help him. One look into his eyes sealed her decision, just as it had from the day she'd met him and she'd first heard him call her "baby girl."

"Okay, if you want me to," she said, letting go for a moment to move away and pull up a chair beside his bed. Coming closer again, she settled herself and leaned over as close to him as she could. "I'll be right here. Just rest. There's nowhere else I'd rather be."


	6. Chapter 5

(Hey everyone! I hope this update finds you well and not too angry at me for taking so long. I've been very busy and it couldn't really be helped. I hope to do better from now on, but real life has a way of happening… This chapter was meant to be part fluff and then part action, but the fluff took over and got longer than I intended, so the case part/action will be coming up next. Thanks for still reading and being interested in this story even when I'm slow at updating. I appreciate it!)

Trial by Fire

Chapter Five

The next day dawned bright, the sun rising warm and golden over the tops of the skyscrapers and buildings surrounding the hospital. Morgan woke, blinking and confused for a moment, but then turned to find Penelope sleeping in the chair beside his bed, her head leaned awkwardly bent against the wall at a strange angle, but her fingers still clutching his and a look of peace and relief somehow on her face. He remembered then what had happened, and winced when he moved to shift himself to a more comfortable position in the bed, the tightness of the burned and damaged skin stretched across so much of his side paining him almost immediately.

He sighed, tired beyond all reasonable sense for someone who had spent so much time unconscious or sleeping for the last few days. Before he had been groggy enough to simply be glad he was alive and to see Penelope there when he woke up. But now the pain his whole right side seemed to be in was alternately raw and hot as if still burning, or else tight and painful feeling as if his skin was pulled too far to still cover his muscles and bones. Whether anyone wanted him to or not, he was going to have to get himself to a mirror today – one way or another – and find out just how bad the damage was.

He tried to shift again, considering just what all he was hooked up to and if he could manage to get himself out of bed and over to the restroom in the corner. But, to his dismay, he found himself dizzy when he even tried to sit up off of the pillows and also discovered that he was hooked up to too many tubes and IVs to move without ripping something out or getting tangled up. If it hadn't been so pathetic and frustrating, Morgan would have chuckled at the irony of being the one who usually chased down suspects, kicked open doors, and once even took a running leap from the top of one building to the next, but now couldn't even seem to get himself out of a hospital bed and into the bathroom. However, he couldn't help the sharp hiss of pain that escaped him as he lowered himself back into the pillows, and saw Penelope waking abruptly, already worried by the sound of his discomfort.

"Derek?" she questioned quickly, sitting up and leaning over to peer into his eyes. "What's wrong? Are you okay, or do you need me to call a nurse?"

He gave her the best half-version of his charming smirk that he could and tried to make his voice calm and soothing. "I'm fine, Baby Girl. Don't you get your pretty little head all worked up over nothing. I didn't mean to wake you."

She gave him a look, as if to tell him it was fine, she wanted to be awake to fuss over him. Then, her phone rang and she dug into the huge green fake snakeskin hobo purse she carried, until she eventually managed to snag her cell and fish it out. Looking at Derek apologetically, she held it up to glance at the display and sighed heavily before she turned partially away from him and answered, sounding weary before the conversation even started, "Hey Kevin, how are you?"

Seeing that sort of response from Garcia to her boyfriend, made Morgan feel as though he'd missed a whole lot while he'd been out of it. It both piqued his curiosity and set off warning signals. Why did she not seem happy to hear from Kevin? The last time she had spoken to Morgan about her relationship, she had seemed almost giddy in the glow of it, and he hadn't been able to help smiling and being happy for her, even though something cold gripped his heart thinking about her and Kevin together, making him feel lonely without knowing why. Was something wrong? Was Kevin bothering her?

"No," she said, her voice soft, but firm, as if she didn't really want Morgan to hear her conversation. "I've told you that I'm not leaving. This is my best friend we're talking about and I'm exactly where I belong right now. You're just going to have to try and understand."

Morgan felt his heart warm at her words, even as his brow furrowed in concern. His hand clenched into a fist atop the clean sheets, but he loosened it quickly when pain shot through his fingers. She was fighting with her boyfriend over him, and while he was touched by her loyalty, he didn't want to cause her trouble; he'd been fine if she wanted – or needed – to go. However, he _did not _like the way it sounded like Lynch was pressuring her. Who was this idiot jerk to be bossing his Baby Girl around and telling her what to do?

"Just stop! I don't want to hear it anymore!" she burst out, now sounding not just annoyed and tired, but spitting mad. "I'm _not_ having this argument with you here! I'm staying!" She stood abruptly and stalked towards the door, before spinning and shooting him a nervous, regretful look.

Morgan could actually hear Kevin Lynch's voice echoing tinnily from the phone as she stopped pacing, hands on hips, face flushed red, listening to him launch into what sounded like quite a tirade. Though Morgan didn't like his helplessness for a second, he realized it was probably a good thing he couldn't move right then, because he would have been out of bed, across the room, and giving Penelope's boyfriend a piece of his mind before hanging up on him. That definitely wasn't his place. He didn't want to dwell on why there were times like this when he wished that it were. Instead, he tried to remember that Penelope was certainly a woman who could hold her own and take care of herself.

From the look on her face at the moment, she was about to handle this problem once and for all. Squaring her shoulders, Morgan watched and listened, having to choke back a laugh, seeing how even her appearance changed when she began to employ the no-nonsense tone he'd learned meant trouble when directed at him. He had only heard it the very few times the two of them had fought, and he was truly surprised at how funny it was when directed at someone else; someone he didn't really like to picture Penelope with anyway. That tone had always cut him to the quick when she used it against him, but he got an evil sort of satisfaction out of hearing it leveled at Kevin Lynch. "Enough, Kevin!" her actual words cut into his thoughts, "I'm hanging up right now! We'll continue this later." And just like that, she hung up on him, glaring at the closed phone in her hand as if it had personally offended her and she wanted to throw it to the floor and stomp on it.

After a moment, she seemed to snap back out of her reverie and look up at him again. She was still flushed and breathing hard from the confrontation and he couldn't help thinking that she looked adorably flustered and he irresistibly wanted to smooth her hair, which was sleepily mussed all over her head and standing on end in places, and kiss her full lips that at the moment she was biting to hold in what he assumed were a string of unladylike words. But then he realized that a film of unshed tears were beading in her eyes and those juicy pinks lips were quivering, and the humor he'd felt at the whole situation quickly seeped out of him. "Come here, Mama," he whispered softly, seeing that she obviously needed his comfort and gritted his teeth through the pain of lifting his arms and holding them open for her. "You did fine. You're okay."

She shook her head forlornly, drawing in a ragged breath and looking as if she really wanted to run off and cry where he couldn't see her. "No…you don't – it's just…You don't understand. He's a good guy…at least the best one that's ever been interested in me. He's attentive and caring…and…and…now I've just made…made you think that he's…well, I just didn't mean to have that argument in front of you."

"Come here, Pen," he repeated simply, not offering the opinions of Lynch that were now running rampant in his head, knowing she wasn't ready to hear them and that it wouldn't help matters right now. "You're gonna have to come to me, Angel. I can't get up and come to you."

She looked at him, shaking her head exasperatedly, as he seemed to be completely ignoring the argument that he had just witnessed. "What do you want, Hot Stuff? I'm afraid I'll hurt you if you hold me."

But Morgan shook his head at her against her arguments, eyes determined and almost pleading with her. "I need you over here by me. I'll deal with it if it hurts."

Knowing she was beat, and honestly needing his comfort after the fight with Kevin, she walked slowly back over to the chair she had vacated and scooted it even closer to him. She leaned in very carefully and gently, laying her head on his chest in what she hoped was an unscarred part, and sighed peacefully as she felt his arms gingerly come around her and faintly squeeze in a hug. And then, with more infinite tenderness than she could have pictured him possessing, she felt his good hand begin to stroke reverently through her hair. His deep voice cracked once as he began to whisper in her ear, but she still felt it warm her all the way down to her toes. "I'm glad you're here, Sweetness. This would be more than I'm set to handle if you weren't. But I'll hate myself if being here is going to end up causing you pain. I don't want you to stay if it's going to ruin something you care about. Go if you need to go, Pen. I don't want to hear you running yourself down again like you just did. Lynch is lucky to have you. You are amazing, Penelope. You deserve the very best in this life…and…if you think you have it with him, don't risk losing it sitting here looking after me."

She buried her head deeper in his chest, glad to cuddle into his sheltering arms now that he had her there. It felt so good to hear him praise her like that. She knew she wasn't beautiful, or striking, or traditionally sexy in the way that men usually noticed, but hearing him say that she was amazing was almost enough to make her forget that knowledge. It certainly made her feel better than she had in a long time.

Eventually she raised her head again to look into his eyes and was shocked by the expression she found there. He was studying her so intently, his eyes warm enough to melt her with his gaze, and so lovingly that she could hardly believe it. She was left never wanting to move from that spot in his arms again. "Derek?" she whispered, her voice soft, stunned, and almost breathless as she saw the look on his face wasn't going away and that she knew just what it was she was seeing in his eyes.

"But if you want to stay…" he added, his voice rasping harshly, striking her with the thought that he might even be nervous, though she couldn't imagine why, "…if you want to stay, then stay right here with me for as long as you want."

She nodded, a decision made in her head as she suddenly knew just what this meant, and that she could have what she had always wanted and yet assumed was an impossibility. Raising up slightly, her hands on either side of him on the bed, and leaning in slowly, she came close enough to touch her lips to his, careful of the raw skin on the side of his face, but having to kiss him then, when she realized she could, before the moment passed her by.

Penelope could feel the breath leave her lungs at first contact with his mouth, especially as he responded, a low, pleased sound escaping him as he began to kiss her back. The kiss lingered, one of his hands hesitantly coming up to cup her chin, holding her head in place, not letting her pull away or stop kissing him. She was tingling all over, her whole body filling with heat and a joy that threatened to overwhelm her, and judging by his response, she gathered he must have been feeling the same. She could feel herself flush at the thought of what this could have already turned into if he were fully mobile and uninjured right now. The melding feeling between them, like neither one could pull away, the heat and intensity that had appeared almost instantaneously once they finally broke down that long ago built wall and kissed, was stronger than she could have possibly anticipated.

With a sigh, she finally had to pull away for breath, stroking a lazy finger down the side of his face and then gently caressing his cheek. She watched as his face broke into an undeniable grin; his eyes twinkling brightly. She knew without a doubt that what she was about to say was right; there was no way she could ever walk away from him now, she wanted to be right beside him forever. And maybe somewhere in a part of her that she had buried and tried to ignore, she had always known that. But it was clear to her now. This was where she belonged and whatever was ahead for him, she was going to be tackling it with him. Smiling down happily at him as well, she managed to calm her euphoria enough to put the teasing lilt back into her voice. "Okay, my Chocolate Paragon of Perfection, pause for a second. I'm going to have to make a phone call and clear things up before we continue this. I think I'd better make it clear to Kevin that not only am I here with you right now, but I'm _with you_. The sooner I take care of that, the better."

He chuckled good-naturedly, for the first time since he'd awakened after the explosion he felt like his old self and he knew he had her to thank for it. Eventually he was going to have to see how bad the burns and scarring were, find out if he could still be a field agent or not, and deal with all the other crushing fears and worries that were lingering on the outskirts of his thoughts right now, waiting to pounce if he gave them too much attention, but for now, this was enough. "You just do that, Mama," he answered her easily, caressing her face one last time before she pulled away and headed with her phone towards the door. "And hurry back! I'll be waiting…"


	7. Chapter 6

(Hey everyone! I know you must be getting tired of hearing my apologies for taking longer between chapters, but I do finally have another one to offer. I appreciate all of you that are still hanging in there with me and reading this story. I'm especially thankful for all of your reviews and letting me know what you're thinking as the story goes along. This chapter doesn't have much Morgan and Garcia in it, which is possibly why it took me longer, the rest of them don't come as naturally to me. But it does have more action and suspense, I hope. That was the plan anyway. I think that's it. I still don't own them obviously. Enjoy!)

Trial By Fire

Chapter Six

Reid, Emily, and JJ were sitting, puzzled and exhausted, spread out around the lounge at the station, still mulling over different motives, suspects, and theories. They wanted to be out taking action, both stopping the shooters taunting the whole city, and catching the person who had targeted Morgan. But, though they might want to, they couldn't go out flying blind and make mistakes, maybe getting more people hurt or even killed. Instead, they had to wait until they could be sure of what their next move should be.

JJ was reclined the best she could get herself on the uncomfortable sofa in the lounge while still looking over files that might help them, scanning them for something that might have been missed, something that might fit their profile of the cell leader in the possible suspects.

Prentiss was sitting at a pitifully rickety card table by the counter, back ramrod straight, on her fourth cup of hot chocolate for the morning, her pen tapping an irritated staccato beat on the table top and her knee jiggling as she thought, wishing anxiously for the answer and for something to do. She'd had enough sitting and thinking; she wanted the solution and a course of action to take.

Reid stood facing the rest of the room and the two of them, leaning against the counter as he stared down into the dregs of his coffee, murky with all the sugar and cream he had spooned into it, his gaze focused inward pensively, considering something only he knew right then. But suddenly, in almost comic fashion, his eyes snapped back into focus. He jerked forward, standing to his full height and staring anxiously at both of them, his coffee spilling all over him, causing a strangled sort of yell as it half-burnt his hands and he nearly dropped the mug. "It's Brustin!" he blurted out, and darted from the room wide-eyed, looking for Hotch, leaving the other two to jump up hurriedly and follow him for explanation. Not that they hadn't already considered the accusatory, bitter detective high on their suspect list, but neither one wanted to miss whatever it was that Reid had noticed or remembered that suddenly made him so sure.

Walking quickly, they saw Reid half-trotting and half-jogging up to Hotch where he stood talking to Rossi, Joyner, and a few other officers, looking deep in conversation. The creases of either concern or frustration on Hotch's brow showed they'd obviously been discussing something troubling, but Reid at this point felt he couldn't stop what he had to tell them. "Hotch!" he blurted out, coming to a stop right at his supervisor's elbow. He was almost shaking he was so wired and he was almost squeaking with earnest excitement. "I see! I think we've got him!"

Both Hotch and Rossi turned to look at Reid curiously, Hotch's eyebrow raised as if wanting to remind him or warn him that other people were already talking and he was going a little overboard, but he also brought the conversation to a close to hear what Reid had to say. Their team's youngest member might not always be adept in his social interactions or in getting his meaning across in simple terms, but it was always worth knowing what he'd come up with and often he brought just the break in a case that they were searching for. They certainly needed one this time.

"What is it, Spencer?" Rossi asked, after a quick glance at Joyner, to which she gave a slight nod, as if giving up her platform and agreeing to finish what she'd been saying later.

"We should have gone with our first instinct on this one. It was staring us right in the face the whole time!" His hands were fluttering wildly, gesturing even more than usual in his enthusiasm.

"Let's move into the conference room," Hotch said simply, authoritatively, not forgetting that they were in the middle of a bustling station house where more people could hear than needed to be listening, and directed their group out of the immediate center of things.

Kate Joyner almost seemed to hesitate on whether or not she should come along, but Hotch stretched out an arm to usher her in with his team, knowing now that she was neither a suspect in his opinion, nor in Reid's new realization apparently, or he wouldn't have been so ready to share his newest conclusion in front of her.

Once they had all settled themselves in the conference room and closed the door, Hotch called them all to attention – almost needlessly, considering that everyone was anxious to hear what Reid had come up with – by saying, "Okay, now Reid, what is it you've found out?"

Reid licked his lips anxiously before spilling his news out in rapid-fire words, almost dancing in place with his fired up response to the epiphany. "It's more like all the pieces we already had finally came together for me, in a way I couldn't deny. When we first met Brustin and Cooper here, he was antagonistic form the start, seemingly without reason or provocation. But then when we went to the crime scene in the subway tunnel, it was obvious how it irked him that we might not be as concerned as we should be – like it didn't matter personally for us. Morgan was the one that challenged his assumption, tried to assure him that we were here to do our job and we always care about doing it well and stopping the unsub before more lives are lost – but here's what's coming back to me now…that wasn't good enough for him. He's never let go of the Son of Sam killings back when he was a beat cop. He's taken them on as a personal crusade, as something that reflects on him, his job, his people, and his city. This new case so closely resembling it has come as a personal affront. This is aimed _at him _in his mind; it's _his_ job to stop these shooters and to make sure everyone else working this case takes it as seriously as he does. It's an inflated sense of ego in a way, for it to seem to him like it's directly taunting him when it isn't, and it's also given him the sense of an avenger – a vigilante even. When Morgan appeared to brush it off, to tell him, 'Take it easy, we're on your side,' so to speak, that was the trigger. It seemed that both he and the situation were being belittled and he snapped, taking it out on Morgan, who certainly seemed to be the nearest, most obvious target. I didn't see it then, but it hit me when I was already mulling over what I knew about him as a suspect and I heard JJ ask Prentiss how Detective Cooper was when she visited him, and she mentioned that Brustin hadn't been at the hospital when she first arrived. He got there before she left and she gave him the case update and all, but why wasn't he already there? What would he have been doing instead of waiting for news about his partner? Couple that with the fact that she said he seemed winded, agitated, and like he wasn't even going to meet her eyes or acknowledge her until she spoke right to him, and he's looking very like our unsub. Right, Emily?"

"You're right, Reid," she responded, looking both surprised that she hadn't drawn that conclusion herself, and also as though she was catching onto his momentum. "He seemed strangely uncomfortable speaking with me. Even though he hasn't liked us since we arrived, I still can't believe I didn't put that together myself."

Reid shook off her praise, his cheeks going slightly pink, and he shrugged offhandedly, turning to look at his superior for confirmation. "What do you think, Hotch?"

Hotch shot a look over at Rossi and then he glanced over at Joyner as well. "Kate?" he asked curiously, keeping his tone impressively neutral as he addressed the other team leader. "You know Detective Brustin much better than we do. What do you make of his behavior in this case? Could you see Dr. Reid's suspicion being correct?"

She sighed, massaging her temples, for a moment, closing her eyes and gathering her thoughts. But when she spoke, her clipped British accent didn't falter and her voice sounded strong and assured. "I had certainly noticed him becoming more agitated and volatile; taking things more to heart than was healthy and lashing out at others – particularly me – in obvious ways. But I had largely chalked it up to the frustration and urgency we were all feeling, and his chafing at my taking over direction and not liking or agreeing with me at all." She shook her head, "It never occurred to me that he would…not when he was so dedicated to the law…"

Hotch's mouth was a thin, serious line, but he shook his head tersely, stopping her from continuing to blame herself. "There is no particular reason you should have suspected him. You weren't trained as a profiler. And he was part of your team. As a general rule, a leader has to trust and have faith in their people. Your observations do help though." He shot one more sidelong glance at Rossi, who gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "I think it's time we pay a visit to Brustin at home and see what we find there. Kate, will we have a warrant?"

"Absolutely," she nodded curtly, marching out.

And just like that, they had a plan of action again.

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Two hours later, they had called and notified Garcia and a very shocked Morgan of their lead on Brustin and their plan of attack. Morgan seemed especially surprised to hear that Brustin was their prime suspect, for he had honestly respected the older cop, despite his prickly demeanor and quickness to argue with and challenge them since their arrival. He would not have expected it from the veteran police officer who had obviously spent a career trying to stop the type of people it now seemed he had become.

Meanwhile, the rest of them, along with a small contingent of SWAT officers were arriving at Brustin's home across the Hudson in New Jersey. Their SUVs were pulling up the drive and the whole group was fanning out across the yard and up the steps into the quiet, dark house. Brustin hadn't arrived for his shift that day, and no one had seen him since Prentiss spoke with him at the hospital the night of the explosion. Obviously, he was still lucid enough to know that they must have pinpointed him as a suspect by now, and didn't want to be around to jog anyone's memory further.

The SWAT leader rammed in the door and they spilled inside the entryway and swept the first floor of the house. "Clear!" Hotch heard Rossi yell clearly from the kitchen and porch area, followed by his own call of the same from the living room and the SWAT team affirming that the dank basement was clear as well. Reid and Emily, with a couple of officers had taken the stairs to the second floor and he'd heard a succession of similar yells as they entered rooms above the rest of them.

Reid's big dark brown eyes locked with Emily's as they stepped up to the last upstairs door, the one farthest to the back of the house. It was like they mentally gathered themselves, each checking to make sure the other was ready, before calling, "FBI!" in warning and bursting into the room together. For a split second, Emily thought the room was as silent and empty as all the rest had been, then her eyes caught the silhouette standing out against the light coming in the window in the corner, and she felt her blood suddenly run ice-cold in her veins.

There, facing them, a disturbingly pleased and sickening smile on his face as he saw them halt and freeze in the doorway, stood Detective Brustin, one meaty hand clearly clutching a trigger wired to explosives threaded all around his torso. "Nice of you both to join me," he spoke, his voice a low rumble of promised menace, inclining his head toward each of them in turn. "The Human Computer and the No-Nonsense Female out to prove herself…and interesting pair to choose to send in here." He paused, then continued before either of them could respond, an almost sadistic gleam coming into his eyes. "But then, I guess I did put your usual enforcer out of commission, didn't I?" He had the nerve to chuckle, looking immensely satisfied with himself as he stared them both down, despite their two guns trained on him.

"Don't do it, Detective," Reid ordered firmly, inching closer but also over to the side, so that Prentiss had room to maneuver as well. His eyes were narrowed and his voice was hard, the stutter and fumbling he often struggled with completely absent now. The fact that this man had come a hair's breadth from blowing his partner to smithereens and showed no remorse steeled Reid's emotions against any of the normal timidness or sympathy he might have felt. "You're under arrest and you've got nowhere to run. Hand over the trigger to Agent Prentiss and come with us quietly."

He felt Emily start to creep forward beside him. She moved with extreme care, and also a controlled grace that Reid constantly found himself marveling at and envying, easing her way closer to Brusin, hand out ready to take the trigger from him, while Reid covered her, his aim never wavering. He almost hoped that Brusin would give him an excuse to shoot, an entirely new emotion for him. But, for a moment, it looked as though the older man was going to give himself up and cooperate, knowing they had him cornered.

Then it was as though a light switched was flicked in his brain and he pulled away again growling, "Do you really think I plan to let you take me in? I knew you'd figure it out and come after me. I tipped my hand too far, but someone had to pay from your unconcerned attitude, and Agent Morgan practically asked for it to be him. I knew when you lost one of your own you would take this city's plight seriously, even if I did give myself away. But I'm ready for you. I've made sure there's no way I'll be rotting away in my own jail, when I've dedicated my life to justice."

The gears whirring in his head clicked into place and Reid yelled out in realization before he actually saw Brustin resolutely raise his hand and press the trigger. "Emily, get back! He's going to do it!"

Emily had realized it herself and already begun to back off. But rather than the immediate explosion and impact she had expected, she instead heard the beeping of an electronic timer beginning a countdown. Looking around the room and back at Brustin, tense and confused, she saw that sick smile of an unhinged man with nothing left to lose crossing his face again. "You've got thirty seconds. You can try to take me, but there are more explosives connected to these wired all through the house. The whole place is going up and I'm going with it. So you can get out, or you can stand here and get caught in it too."

Meeting Reid's eyes for a second, wider than she had ever seen them before, they decided in an instant and turned for the door. Clattering down the steps behind him, Emily could hear Reid barking the warning to clear everyone out into his walkie-talkie. Finally they reached the first floor again, and seeming to be the only ones left in the house, rushed down the hall to the door. Emily was right behind him, and they were almost out, when the heel of her boot caught in a loose floorboard and she went crashing to the ground, cracking her chin as she landed.

She hit the ground hard enough to lose her breath, bite into her lip, and feel her vision swimming blurrily. "Emily, get up!" Reid called, backtracking to give her his hand and try to heave her up. For a moment, her limbs didn't want to cooperate and she couldn't seem to get them functioning to right herself.

"Reid, just go…" she murmured, her voice thick from her already swelling lip, as he tried to lug her to her feet and pull her with him.

"No, I'm not leaving you. Come on. Now!" he ordered, taking charge in a split second, and she knew, even then, saving her life. She managed to stagger to her feet again and he pulled her along as they stumbled out the last few steps onto the porch.

It was not a moment too soon she realized, as the force of the awaited blast suddenly pushed them from behind, just as Reid lunged off the porch and took her with him. They landed on their stomachs on the grass and Reid rolled over to shield her from the flying boards, timbers, and glass from the windows as it all came raining down around them. She wanted to have the presence of mind to fend for herself as she usually did, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to say or do anything. She closed her eyes for a minute, glad to let her younger teammate take charge, trusting him absolutely and relishing the oddly safe feeling she had there on the grass, even in the chaos of their almost being blown to pieces. She could vaguely hear Rossi barking orders, hear Hotch and JJ running up calling their names, and more close to her ear, she could hear Reid's voice softly asking her if she was alright. But it all faded to the pounding pain in her head, and the ache in her jaw and neck. She attempted to nod to him that she was fine and then her eyes fluttered closed.


	8. Chapter 7

(Wow, this chapter is woefully overdue, and I'm so sorry I've made you wait so long! I hope there are still people who want to know what happens in this, even though I've been busy and left it lagging all this time. Hopefully, I can pick it up now and wrap it up more regularly. Thanks as always for any thoughts on it that you share with me, and I still don't own "Criminal Minds" or any of the characters.)

Trial by Fire

Chapter Seven

"What!?! Did you say he blew the house up with Reid, Emily, and the SWAT team still in the room with him? Are they alright?! Tell me that they got out, JJ!" Garcia screeched on her end of the phone conversation, shooting out of her chair and sending it flying backwards over the hospital linoleum and gesturing more wildly with each exclamation. Morgan's head shot up at her words, immediately causing him to wince at the sudden movement, but still tense and worried, thinking that his friends might suddenly be facing the same fate he was.

"Pen? What's going on? Did they get out? Did they make it?" He reached out, hand itching to take the phone from her and demand immediate answers from JJ himself. Seeing the look of his skin, or what was passing for his skin at the moment, made him draw back quickly. How did Penelope even sit here and look at him as if he were still handsome, or even human? Sure, he knew it was painful, but he'd been trying to block out how hideous the scarring must be making him look. Now he was blatantly reminded and he had to stamp down the sudden realization and return to silently praying that Reid and Emily weren't about to suffer the same thing. He gave Penelope an impatient look and prompted her again, "Pen, are they okay or not?"

"Hush, Derek! I'm trying to find out!" she admonished him, flapping her hands at him to back off, "Sorry, JJ, go on…"

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Morgan, who knew exactly what they were facing if they hadn't gotten out, she thanked JJ, said goodbye, and hung up.

"Well?" Morgan prompted, struggling to sit up further in the bed and finally succeeding with some difficulty.

"Take it easy, Superman," she soothed, coming back over to smooth a gentle hand over the stress lines marring his forehead. She was careful not to touch any of the hard eschars formed from the most severe burning on his face and neck where the sensation was damaged and contact could make them completely separate from the less affected skin and up the risk of infection even more. She knew that he wasn't suffering the normal amount of pain due to the loss of sensation in damaged nerve endings, but she didn't want to cause anymore trauma inadvertently than what had already been done. Patting his cheek in a relatively undisturbed place, she quickly put his worries to rest. "They're going to be fine, Derek," she said, her voice soft but firm, holding his gaze until he visibly relaxed and she saw that her words had gotten through. "They made it out. Prentiss' shoe caught on a loose board; she fell and bit through her lip and jarred her chin pretty good when it hit the floor. She was dizzy and almost passed out, but Reid pulled her to the porch, and they dove into the yard before the place blew."

"Damn," Morgan gritted out, his brow furrowed as he ran a hand gingerly over the back of his scalp, in an unconscious gesture she'd often seen him use when frustrated or upset, but then he jerked his hand away again when he hit tender skin. "It _was _Brustin then?"

"Not the shootings – but the explosive in your SUV – yeah, it looks that way." She reached out to take his hand, rubbing her thumb over the back of it in a soothing motion, seeing how agitated he was. "Hey, Honey Bunch, look at me," she urged, tilting his chin up until he had to meet her eyes. "They'll be alright. JJ said they're already being checked out and it's going to be fine."

He nodded, but for some reason didn't look comforted. Drawing in a deep breath, one that to Garcia seemed like a gulp for air, he searched her face before he spoke again. His grip on her paler hand in his tightened considerably as if begging her not to let go of him, making her feel like the lifeline to a drowning man. He opened his mouth to speak and instead swallowed twice while no sounds came out before he could make his voice audible. Finally, in a choked voice that tried to make a joke, but sounded strained to the breaking point, he said, "Well, at least we know they won't roll in here crispy critters like me." He attempted a chuckle and a look of relief for them, but it fell flat and he knew it. Suddenly, the room's walls seemed to be shrinking in on him, and it was as if the floor was falling out from under him and he was plummeting into the dark unknown. It was all he could do to keep his chest from heaving with panicked gasps. Reid and Prentiss didn't deserve to look anything like how he suddenly knew he must. He'd only been able to block the realization for so long, and now it was like he couldn't tear his eyes from the charred skin of his arm now that he was aware. Somehow, he had to see just how bad it was all over – had to get Penelope to help him see his whole reflection – because at the moment he was imagining a monster.

She squeezed his hand tightly, leaning closer as if knowing his mind was frantically spiraling and hoping she could catch him before he crashed. "What is it, Gorgeous? What's going on? Are you okay?"

He jerked his eyes away from her angrily, turning his face toward the wall to avoid that lovingly concerned look in her eyes. The self-loathing grew exponentially in him when he growled out a response at her, but he couldn't understand how she could treat him as if his looks hadn't changed – as if she did still find him 'gorgeous' the way she had before. "That – that's wrong…you still calling me that. I know I can't – can't still be anyone you'd call gorgeous right now. What little I can see is hideous. How can you just ignore that?"

She sighed, blinking back tears when she recognized the conflict and hurt within him. How could she make him understand and see that she hadn't lied and wasn't just hoping to comfort him by ignoring the truth. "Derek, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. But I'm not ignoring what's happened. I know you're hurt and it kills me to see you injured and in so much pain. But I still see the beautiful man I always see when I'm near you. Some scars don't change the fact that you are the same person I've always known. You're used to being hunky, Stud Muffin, I get it – "

He started to interrupt here and argue with her, but she plowed right on, knowing he needed to hear what she had to say. "And you know I can't lie, I've always found you incredibly hot." She actually gave him a lecherous smirk with those words, and he couldn't help but smile in spite of himself. "Most of this is going to heal; you won't feel so horrible or look as badly burned as you do now forever. But none of that really matters anyway; you have to know that. It's the way you've always treated me, and others, that makes you so sexy. Your gorgeous _heart_ was what really attracted me to you, and it's why, looking at you now, you seem no less sexy or desirable or handsome to me. I _love you_, Derek Morgan. I always have and you're just going to have to get used to it, because nothing will ever be able to change that."

Morgan wanted to growl in frustration that a tear actually leaked form his eye somewhere in the midst of her declaration, followed by another slow, traitorous drop, and another. But instead, he reached out, gingerly placing both hands on either side of her face, caressing her soft, flawless skin as he pulled her closer to kiss her with a hunger, a gratitude, and an intensity that none of their kisses had yet possessed.

"Wow, and you're a great kisser too," she quipped breathlessly when their lips parted, though her hands fluttered needlessly around, fluffing his pillow and adjusting his blanket, giving away how flustered with attraction he'd just made her. "Always a plus," she winked, gaining control again.

Morgan chuckled low in his throat and shook his head at her, "Enough with the flattery, Woman! I don't need my head to explode along with everything else!"

She took his hand again and leaned back in just as close and said, "No, it's not flattery. I'll kick your butt if you ever try to pull over-inflated ego crap on me. But you do need to know that you're going to get through this, your wounds are going to heal, what scars are left won't matter to anyone that matters, and that I _love _you and you're _beautiful _to me."

Morgan nodded at her words, accepting them as honest truth and inching towards believing them himself. "Thanks, Baby Girl. I did need that. We talk to a physical therapist and burn specialist tomorrow and besides the fact that they might say a lot of it can't be fixed, they could tell me I won't be able to keep working in the field. But at least you can get me a mirror and hold my hand while I face just how bad this is. It's time for me to do it, as long as you're sticking around."

She nodded and got up to retrieve the hand mirror from the bathroom where they'd put it when he first regained consciousness so he wouldn't upset himself prematurely. "You got it, Cupcake," she said, encouraging him with a bright smile as she went, and then taking his hand again when she returned and handed him the mirror. "We'll do it together."

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When Emily Prentiss' eyes finally fluttered open, she glanced around warily, not seeing anyone she knew or recognizing her surroundings. Immediately, her eyes squinched shut again as the light shot pain through her temple sharply, and she became sadly conscious of a deep, dull throbbing in her lower lip. Reaching her hand up disorientedly to touch where the pain was radiating from, she remembered vaguely that she had been with Reid. Fear stirred in her stomach, wondering why he wasn't with her now and if he was hurt too. What exactly had happened? She was still groggy and her brain was slow to piece it all back together.

She struggled to sit up and managed it easily once she calmed down enough to move slowly and appease the pounding in her head. _'Okay,' _she thought, methodically taking stock as her sense returned to her, _'the rest of my body is fine. All the pain is in my lip and my head.' _ For a second, fear running cold in her veins, she touched her face, afraid she might have been burned in some explosion similar to Morgan's, and at that moment, she felt both guilty for being relieved that her skin seemed unaffected and grateful that her memory suddenly came back to her. _They had gone to Brustin's…she and Reid had been almost out of the house when she'd stumbled…the pain in her lip…Reid had pulled her out and then shielded her from debris with his own body…then nothing. _Emily's brow furrowed as she tried to make herself think harder, remember anything after that, but it was gone, no matter how hard she tried.

"Don't worry," she heard a familiar voice say comfortingly from the doorway of her room, "you hit your head pretty hard. It won't all come back at once." Her head shot up to see Reid standing there, two coffees in hand and a hopeful smile on his face. The sudden movement elicited a moan from her lips as she jarred her aching head, and Reid swept into the room, set the coffees down on the nightstand, and brought a cool hand, delicately gentle and soothing for a man, to her shoulder. "Easy, Emily, take it slow. They really did wonder if you'd given yourself a concussion. I'm sure that's a doozy of a headache you're nursing."

She smiled sheepishly, her dark eyes meeting his as he quickly took his hand away from her skin, suddenly realizing how close he was to her. "I brought you some decent coffee," he added, gesturing to the nearer cup. "But I'm not sure if you're supposed to have it or not, so I'd drink up fast if I were you."

She laughed and gingerly reached out to take the coffee, trying not to think about how she suddenly noticed his eyes when they'd met hers a moment ago. How had she never seen the exotic, cocoa-colored brown depth of them before? "Thanks, Reid, this should help," she said honestly, tilting the carryout cup towards him in a mock toast.

"Hey, it's the least I can do for an injured teammate," he offered laughing, not wanting her to feel awkward about getting hurt or being the one down. He'd just wanted to check on her, be sure she was alright. It had done a number on him when he'd rolled off her in Brustin's yard after the blast and after the debris had settled, and he had turned her over to see her eyes roll back in her head and have her completely stop responding. Terrified would be a better way to describe it. He had only been trying to keep from getting hit by anything, but for a moment he had been afraid he'd hurt her even worse.

She had come around as paramedics on the scene loaded her on a stretcher, and he'd never been so glad to see that anxious, penetrating look of hers, even if it was more confused that normal. "What happened?" she'd demanded, her voice already sounding thick because of the way her lip was swelling and how she was unconsciously favoring her sore jaw and chin. "Did we get Brustin?"

"We got him," Reid had answered her, "more or less."

She'd squeezed the hand he offered her as he walked beside the stretcher until they loaded her into the ambulance. He'd had to stay at the scene and give a report on what had happened and so hadn't seen her again until now. It was wonderful to see her awake and alert, even if he could tell she was still hurting behind a valiantly good effort at trying to hide it.

"Hey, Reid?" she broke into his thoughts then, bringing him back to the here and now. "Thanks for pulling me out of there. I almost got both of us killed there at the last minute." She swallowed hard, but made herself meet his eyes again. "I owe you one."

"Forget it," he responded, shrugging it off, and for some reason feeling choked up and touched by her sincerity even as he tried to wave off her gratitude. "You'd have done the same for me."

She grinned as best she could at him, taking a sip of coffee, optimistically thinking that maybe her head did feel just a tiny bit better and that she was very glad Spencer Reid had come to sit with her.


	9. Chapter 8

Hello all! I really hope people are still enjoying this story! I'm trying to continue it well and with as much enthusiasm as I can, though it's starting to drag I'm afraid since I've been so busy and haven't been able to update the way I'd like. Anyway, I won't bore you with all that. Here's another chapter, please do enjoy! Of course, as always, I don't own them and I never will, even if it would be cool if they really did do what I wanted as I watched on Wednesdays! 

Trial by Fire

Chapter Eight

"Okay people," Rossi's voice called the small meeting back to attention. "Detective Brustin set the explosive device in Agent Morgan's vehicle, but he was not our subway shooter. That person –or persons- is still out there. So, where does that leave us?"

Hotch, JJ, Reid, and the local detectives on the case began to go back through the theories and conclusions they had come up with before both Morgan's injury and Brustin's basic suicide-by-cop. But it was Joyner who eventually spoke up to answer his question. "Have we given up the idea of a terrorist cell driving this to create panic and therefore achieve their ultimate goal while everyone else is wrapped up in the resulting chaos? I certainly still think it's a worthy theory, and we could even be bringing in leaders and prominent members of the known cells in the area to interview, see if we can get any leads. We may get lucky and someone's behavior will tip us off or at least rule them out."

"Are there that many operating cells that you know of that haven't already been broken up? Why are they being allowed to flourish?" Rossi asked sharply, gaining a raised eyebrow from Hotch, but no vocal remonstrance. It was a fair question, even if they did think that they knew the logical answer.

"Because they're very good," Kate answered calmly. "They have been exceedingly careful, and stealthy enough to cover their true designs so far. We can't pin anything on them that would actually prove they were terrorists, but there are several, let's call them 'militant protest groups' which we have been watching and which seem to fit the profile."

Dave nodded, immediately resuming calm control once satisfied by her answer. "I think that's our best bet at this point. We'll want in on the interviews alongside you or one of yours, obviously."

"Obviously," she nodded in difference to him, a small, knowing smile quirking one side of her lips as if she had expected no less.

"Hotch? Anything else?" Rossi questioned the team leader before the meeting adjourned.

"No, but let's get this in motion as soon as possible. We're running out of time. I think they're done ramping up. They've created their panic, they've set the stage, their next action is going to be toward their final goal – whatever or whoever that might be."

Reid spoke up then, motioning to himself and JJ as he did. "Hotch, if you and Dave have the interviews covered, I'm going to take the case files to the hospital, go over them with Emily and JJ, maybe even Cooper now that he's recovering. I think we're close to finding out their target. It feels like we're close – if we could just slide that last piece into place. Then, just in case the interviews don't pan out and yield a suspect, we'll at least know where or what they were planning to strike. That knowledge would also give us something to use – some leverage – to fluster them, trip them up in interrogation if we could find it for you soon. The element of surprise would be on our side, if we knew something they obviously thought they had managed to keep secret."

Hotch nodded his assent, and their two younger agents left on that errand, while he and Dave turned to Kate and her officers, figuring out who their suspects were and how they were going to round them up to bring in for questioning.

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Penelope could tell that Derek was on pins and needles waiting for the rehabilitation therapist to finish her examination and give him her prognosis on his recovery. She had been looking over the burns on his side, examining him closely for almost ten minutes now, and Penelope could tell that it was all he could do not to burst out with a demand for answers right that second. If he had been as mobile as he usually was when working a case, he would be pacing or joggling his knee and rapping his fingers on the table, but he kept himself still as the therapist studied the blistering, the open wounds, and the hard eschars down the side of his face, neck, shoulder and arm, his hip and side, and bit his lips to keep back comments – either jokes to lighten his nerves or pleading for a positive diagnosis.

Finally the therapist, a Dr. Sara Nolan, straightened and stood back, looking both he and Penelope in the eyes. "Well, Agent Morgan, I have both good news and bad news for you. You have sustained some serious injuries all along your side; first, second, and even a few third degrees burns over almost 29 percent of your body. It's nothing to take lightly and it is not something you're going to bounce back from quickly. However, it could have been much, much worse. If you hadn't stopped and been opening the door to exit the vehicle already, we could be looking at a very different situation. As it is, there has been no permanent respiratory damage, they've managed to keep infection at bay with the mycitracin and other antibiotics, and the care they've taken has preserved most of the affected dermis from being lost. Skin grafts may be necessary in places, but they would be mostly cosmetic. With time, and patience, I think you may recover full mobility. You'll have some extensive physical therapy if you want that mobility, but you will recover."

Penelope felt herself drawing in a huge, shaky breath, one of the first full ones she had been able to draw into her lungs since Dr. Nolan had arrived. Morgan's brow furrowed though, not yet ready to feel relief until he knew the answer to the question that had plagued him since he first regained consciousness. Swallowing hard, he spoke up, voice rough, eyes now pegging hers with seriousness equal to what his therapist had just directed towards them. "Will I be able to return to field work?…Can I still do my job?"

Sara Nolan's eyes warmed, concern evident in them, as she very slowly shook her head of bobbed brown hair. "I want to tell you 'Yes, of course you can, in time,' but I honestly can't say for sure. It's too early to tell. There is a good chance you should – with some restrictions for a time – but I can't make promises to you until you begin physical therapy and we see how it goes and how the injured skin holds up."

Morgan nodded tightly, his mouth a hard line and his eyes dark and determined, but the crease of worry between his eyes eased slightly at last with the tentatively good news. "Physical therapy will be just fine. I'll make sure of it," he answered decidedly.

Dr. Nolan shook her head slowly, but glanced for a moment at Penelope, shrugged her shoulders, and gave up the fight. She could tell that cautioning him he might never be 100 percent fit again was a hopeless endeavor, and his possibly foolish self-assurance was much preferable to any patient's recovery than completely crushed hopes. "We'll see soon," was all she stated out loud. "I'll be speaking with your burn doctor to be certain, but I would expect to see you next week for our first session."

Morgan and Penelope both thanked her, and she turned and left the room. When she was gone, Penelope turned to look back at him tilted up to sitting position in bed, and smiled at him. She could feel her eyes glittering with unshed tears of pride. To her, his resolve was nothing short of inspiring. She knew if there were any chance on Earth that Morgan would be back to his old self, he wouldn't allow any other option. "Well, Stud Muffin, I certainly wouldn't want to get in your way."

He shook his head playfully, winking at her with, she was glad to see, a much happier, more hopeful look in his eyes. "Nope, not when I mean business," he replied. "And I do mean business. This isn't gonna finish me."

"I wouldn't have expected anything less." She brought her lips down to meet his lovingly to emphasize her words, and she knew, could feel it in her bones, that Derek would be alright.

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Reid and JJ arrived at Emily's hospital room and let themselves in before she looked up and saw them, a smile crossing her face. Her lip still looked bad and there was some swelling in her jaw, but knowing there was no concussion and that she could be discharged as early as that evening was already making her look and feel much better. They knew that she didn't like to be out of the loop on a case and excluded from the action anymore than they did.

JJ gave her a quick, one-armed hug, telling her affectionately that it was good to see her in one piece. Reid hugged her too as she was blushing sheepishly from JJ's comment, and asked how she was feeling.

"I'm fine, Spence, thanks for asking," Emily answered, her voice low and quietly embarrassed. "I'm stiff and my face and lip are sore, but mostly I just feel ridiculous for tripping and almost getting us both blown up."

"I told you not to look at it that way!" he reminded, his warm, soft eyes luminous enough that it made her stomach do funny things she wasn't prepared for. "I certainly don't."

Throughout this exchange, JJ's eyes were stealthily darting from one of them to the other, taking in the warmth and concern, and the bond forming between them. The blond liaison knew from experience what it was like to try to hid romantic feelings from the rest of her team, and she could see that Spence and Emily were going to be no more successful than she had been; it was obvious that something had changed and some brand of attraction was now growing between them. An evil grin crossed her pretty face and a mischievous twinkle entered her playful eyes as she let them both know she was onto them with a look. "When did this happen?" she asked them both teasingly.

"What do you mean?" Reid asked, his brow furrowing as if he truly didn't know what she meant, but his voice squeaked nervously at the end of his words, realizing that JJ was onto what he hadn't been able to admit to Emily yet – or even allowed himself to acknowledge in his own mind.

Emily flushed again, suddenly unable to meet either of their eyes and her long fingers began fiddling with a loose string on the blanket covering her legs.

"Okay, fine," JJ chuckled, rolling her eyes at their feeble attempts to evade her question. She thought to herself that though she had been caught by her teammates, she and Will had surely been more sly than this. "Act like you don't know what I mean. I'll find out what you two are up to anyway, just give me time. But we came to talk about the case – any potential target that Hotch and Rossi could use as leverage in the interrogations they're conducting with Joyner."

"You're right," Emily added, latching onto anything else to deflect JJ's focus and running with it. "Let's look over them once more. There has to be some connection in there that we're close to finding, something that will help us see what they're after."

Reid nodded and began arranging the open files on both her bedside table and over her lap where she could see them as well as he and JJ, unknowingly making her shiver when his fingers grazed her legs through the blanket. "No matter how random the actual victims are, there has to be something we can learn from these attacks. Maybe they're gauging something with the locations. We must be close – we have to be."

"The locations?" JJ repeated slowly, running what Reid had said through her thoughts, feeling instinctively as if there were something to it. "Like testing how long it takes the police and EMTs to get there? Or how cleanly they can get away from an area at different times?"

"Yes! Exactly! JJ, that's it! Reid, why didn't we connect the locations? Are they all around some common building or landmark? It's the place they're planning to strike that they all have in common!"

Reid pulled out a map while Emily and JJ eagerly read him the different streets and subway stops where the shootings had occurred. Then, suddenly, Reid dropped the map, eyes wide, where both could see just what it was that all the sights circled around. "There it is," Reid murmured almost breathlessly. Licking his lips nervously, he pulled out his phone to call Hotch with the update when Emily and JJ both nodded their agreement. "Hotch!" he burst out anxiously as the call was answered. "We're not sure what their intent is yet, but whatever the reason, we've found their target…"


	10. Chapter 9

(Okay, folks, for those still interested, here's another update. This story is really and truly getting closer to its ending, slowly but surely. I really appreciate the people who are still reading, and the comments and encouragement they've kept sending along, even when I've been rather MIA on this site lately. It means a lot and has kept me going on this one. Hope you enjoy, and as always, I don't own them. Garcia would have dumped Kevin and she and Morgan would be having a delicious secret office romance by now if I had any real control of the situation;]

Trial by Fire

Chapter Nine

Things moved quickly after that, as obviously there was no time to waste. Using the knowledge of where the cell planned to strike, and informing the suspects that the place was staked out and it would be impossible for them to achieve their goal, finally caused one of their lower level interviewees to crack under Hotch and Rossi's combined pressure and give away the mission. As it turned out, they had been planning to bomb the large outdoor pavilion in Central Park in two day's time, when there had been a huge concert and peace rally planned. The event had been intended to bring in several international speakers to rally for peace, numerous big-name musical acts, and would have attracted thousands of spectators. Certainly it would have had a devastating impact and sent out a very clear message of their own, besides thwarting the information and encouragement the event was supposed to project to the audience.

Once they had discovered the target, it made such perfect sense that Reid wondered how they hadn't seen it sooner. It was exactly the sort of positive, unifying experience a terrorist cell would hit for maximum effect and exposure, and the subway line where so many of the shootings had occurred had a stop just outside the Park's entrance, while the street where the man had been shot near the ATM and pretzel vendor was the quickest route out of the area. He was pleased that they had figured it out, and that their knowledge of the location had finally wrangled a time and intended target, but he couldn't help feeling he should have seen it sooner and being frustrated with himself.

He expressed this to Emily when he visited her that afternoon, both to give her an update on their plan of attack, and to be there when she was discharged. He wanted to make sure that she did indeed have a clean bill of health from her doctors, that she got back to their hotel safely, and basically he knew that he just wanted to see her and talk to her more and more lately. It was a strange feeling for him; an attachment and desire towards her that he didn't usually feel had somehow crept into Reid before he was even aware and able to keep it under control. He knew it was stupid and crazy to get involved with someone at work – even distracting and dangerous. He also knew that caring like this about another person in his life had usually only brought pain and disappointment. Emily probably didn't even return his feelings. But every time he started to try to turn away and make himself forget it, a little voice kept calling him back, telling him she did care about him too, and it was worth the risk. He honestly felt like he had to try or he would regret it.

Her strong, steady voice broke into his head then, bringing him back to the case and what he had been telling her. "Spencer, you can't look at it that way. You're so hard on yourself for no reason. None of the rest of us saw it either, and if you hadn't connected it when you did, we might still be wondering when and where and how to stop them right now. You gave us the direction, Reid. You just have to let the rest of it go."

Sighing, he stepped a little closer to the edge of her bed where her legs were hanging over as she waited for them to tell her she could go, his head hanging slightly and hands stuffed in his pockets, leaving his skinny elbows akimbo. "But if I'd been quicker…if I'd put things together sooner, some of those people might not have died in their trial runs…"

She reached out a hand to touch his elbow, just under his rolled-up sleeve, so that her fingers grazed the bare skin of his arm, making it tingle pleasantly, and gently urged him another step closer to her. Peering up into the brown eyes he tried to avert from her gaze, she made him meet her eyes when she spoke again, "I mean it, Spence. Stop blaming yourself! You did all you could do. And you've saved lives _now_, by figuring it out when you did. None of this is even remotely your fault. Alright?"

He nodded half-heartedly, appreciating her effort, but not really feeling less guilty. Then he visibly jumped, surprised, when he felt her fingers touch his chin lightly, tilting his face up and smiling at him. "Besides, I think you're brilliant. I'm impressed you figured it out when you did. I'm touched that you're here right now, to make sure that I'm okay. And I'm indebted to you for saving my life just yesterday. Accept the fact that you're a genius-hero, Spencer Reid, and bask in those things for awhile instead of beating yourself up for something that can't be helped."

He reached up to cover the hand she rested on his face with his own, and squeezed her hand tightly for just a moment, his eyes wide and surprised, almost dazed as he thanked her with a look instead of words. They were interrupted then when her doctor and a nurse came in to discharge her and send them on their way. Though he couldn't help the disappointment that filled him when he lost her touch as she turned to listen to the doctor's parting instructions, he was both amused and pleased to see how excited she suddenly seemed to be getting out of that hospital bed and room and back on her feet; back to doing her job. With a reassuring nod and smile, Reid promised that he would look after her and make sure she followed their cautions to take it easy for the next couple of days. He didn't have the charm and persuasiveness of Morgan, or the imposing authority of Hotch, but at times like these, people seemed to respond to his honest sincerity even more.

When the doctor signed her out, Emily swung her legs out happily and hopped off the bed to the floor. It was lucky the doctor had already turned to head for the front desk and the papers he needed to sign for her release, because she got a bit dizzy with the sudden movement, tangled herself up with Reid when he tried to steady her, and nearly sent them both clattering to the floor in a heap of arms and legs.

"Take it easy, Emily," he laughed as he awkwardly righted himself and managed to hold onto her as well. He was employing a lightly teasing tone to his voice that was rarely there, where he was comfortable enough to poke harmless fun, and his eyes glittered with pure glee as he continued. "If you don't slow down a little, you'll break both our legs and then where would we be?"

She chuckled good-naturedly, both at her own expense and also at his humor and lifted mood, "Yeah, yeah, Reid. Let's just get out of here. I'm going on the raid day after tomorrow and nobody's going to stop me – not you, or the doctor, or this bump on the head!"

"As you wish, M'Lady," he replied grandly, faking a horrible British accent and slight bow as he rolled a wheelchair in from the hall while she grabbed her bag and coat. She frowned upon seeing the chair, but knowing it was hospital policy and would do no good to argue with him, she acquiesced and sat without comment.

Reid smirked slightly, pleased with his easy victory, and pushed the chair out of the room, knowing she was even more anxious than he was for her to regain her freedom.

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The next evening, Morgan eased a tired, aching body back into the bed in his hospital room, closing his eyes against the weariness, fear, pain, and frustration. The room was bathed in the normally calming blue light of gloaming evening – a time that usually brought peace to the end of a long day, but tonight it only added to the dim, blank hopelessness overwhelming him. It was a feeling he'd never had much experience with, and it left him vulnerable and unequipped to handle its power, taking over his mood and emotions now. Therapy was not progressing as he had hoped, he still saw ugliness and marred skin that disgusted him when he looked in the mirror, he was not showing the sort of progress that was going to get him back to working with the team anytime soon, and he saw no end to days like this in sight.

Dr. Nolan encouraged him that he was doing well. She said that he had retained much of his range of motion and that he was getting back a bit more mobility each day. Slowly, his ability to do small, everyday tasks was returning to him, and she kept trying to remind him that it was a slow process and he had to be patient; healing from the sort of widespread injury this was took time.

But Derek Morgan was at the end of his rope. He had no patience left and the burning of his emotions below the surface was nearly driving him out of his mind. He felt distracted and shut out of his own life – and from the man he was supposed to be. The only thing keeping him sane and hanging on at all was Penelope. Why he had sent away after dinner this evening and not let her stay was beyond him now. He hadn't wanted her to see him so weak in therapy, struggling physically to do things that should be effortless for him. It suddenly turned his stomach and made his hands and forehead clammy, realizing that she now saw him weak all the time. He might never be the way he was, might never be that man again…and how could he expect her to stay if that were true? He wouldn't want her with him if he couldn't rise from these ashes – and yet, how would he manage without her?

He felt his breath coming faster, his chest tightening as though iron bands were stretched across it, squeezing; almost as though he who had rarely feared anything was having his first taste of true, uncontrollable panic. It was just then, as he felt he was going to have to lunge out of bed and try to escape or scream, that someone knocked lightly and then let themselves into the room.

Looking up, he saw Penelope standing before him, her white-blond hair, pale porcelain skin, and oddly subdued white eyelet-lace sundress making her glow palely in the deep blue-lavender wash of shadows in the room. For a moment, as she took a step forward and whispered his name on a husky breath, he thought that she couldn't be real, that he must have dreamed her there like a fantasy. Then she reached his side and lightly stroked his face, her touch cool and calming as salvation from the figurative flames that still lapped and clawed at him on the inside, trying to silently devour his heart and mind since their attempt on his body had failed.

"Derek," she whispered again, biting her bottom lip in uncertainty as her brow crinkled with concern and she studied his face. "What is it? Are you alright?"

He let out a breath and reached out to clasp the hand she'd laid along his face, twining their fingers together and laying them over his heart, his thumb stroking gently over her flawless soft skin. "Mama, I just…are you here, or am I dreaming?"

She giggled sweetly, a pink blush rising on her cheeks amid the hues of blue and white. "I'm here, Derek. Right here. Is it okay that I came back?"

He nodded – overcome – so glad to see her that a lump of adoration and gratitude rose up in his throat and wouldn't allow him to speak. She looked into his eyes, searching, seeking, and finally seeing and understanding just what was going on and how much he had needed her right now, though he would never ask. She didn't offer empty platitudes, false hopes, joking cheer, or any words at all. Instead, she bent to kiss him forcefully, in a way that she hadn't yet, in a way that conveyed want and demand and desire. "That's it, Sweet Cheeks. I'm going to convince you. We're going to survive this, we're going to have our chance- to be in love, to be happy, to be together. You're not going to lose me, and you aren't going to lose yourself either."

She didn't give him a chance to argue, just pulled the privacy curtain closed around the bed so no one could see and interrupt them and climbed up next to him. Smiling both bravely and with an evil sparkle in her eyes, she bent to kiss him even more fully, carefully placing a knee on each side of his waist, hovering over him and making her intentions perfectly clear.

"Don't think," she whispered, giving him an escape, a way out, and a healing in her. "Just do. Pretend we're not here, pretend it's all over and we're both fine. Make love to me. Right now." The white lace hem inched up her thighs, then her stomach as Morgan watched, dazed, until suddenly his hands joined hers to help and slipped the dress off over her head.

If this was hurting him anywhere, he couldn't feel it. All he could feel was some joy instead of his despair and the comfort she provided was worth the physical risk. Penelope as usual was a step ahead and had figured that out before he had or she wouldn't have started this. He surged upwards, mouth crashing into hers, letting his fire be engulfed in her inviting lake of comfort. He rolled her under him and let himself be pulled into her waves. She took him over, she gave him strength, and he finally let go, taking her with him as love overcame his pain. For the first time passion wasn't a burning flame – instead it cooled the fire that had been devouring him alive and brought him back from the brink as it swelled inside.

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Meanwhile, as the team put together their course of action for the next day's sting operation, the members of their target cell were revising their plan in a warehouse near the pavilion for the rally. If the BAU and the NYPD knew what they had in store, then they would just have to change their mode of attack. Let the Feds stake out and surround the park and keep the peace rally safe. They decided to strike outside of it instead, just as the performers, speakers, and attendees arrived. It would still make an impact and keep the event from getting off the ground. Peace would be the last thing on anyone's mind; they would be seeking revenge and the name of the cell will be on everyone's lips. It could be even more publicity, influence, and fear in their foes than they could have generated before – because now they'll know who to blame.

No, nothing will be averted by their feeble attempts to silence the mission; they will never be able to protect all the blind idiots who don't know the impossibility of the peace they seek. These cops and agents will learn – or die – just like their original targets. They won't know what hit them…


	11. Chapter 10

(Hey everyone! Hope you're enjoying great summer weather wherever you are! This story is winding down at long last. I know you had to be wondering if I was ever going to get it done! This isn't the last chapter but we're within the last couple installments. Thanks for being such faithful readers and reviewers; it really means more than you know to me as a writer. I'm so glad it's summer because I have more fresh story ideas than I know what to do with and I'll finally have time to get going on them. On with Chapter Ten, and I hope you enjoy it!)

Trial by Fire

Chapter Ten

The day of the Peace Rally dawned hazy and bright; muggy heat already rising from the dew-drenched block of green that was Central Park and the teeming blacktop and cement that surrounded it on all sides. The sun hovered in the sky, looking as though it were wearing a halo through the wavering heat of the air, already humid and dense even at 6:00 in the morning. The street and subways near the site were already busy and teeming with the very lifeblood of New York City – the homeless, the vendors, shopkeepers, street sweepers, and other early commuters; those who saw the city's quieter ebb and flow that others never witnessed.

Within the next hour, however, the area saw some action that was highly unusual and brought the very real bite of the modern world's terror right to their street and to the morning's near-calm they had come to hold somewhat sacred. Several unmarked police cruisers and black SUVs were parked in a strategically scattered manner all up and down the street and around that side of the Park – flanking and surrounding the outer edge in a way that should make approach or departure without notice by these new arrivals impossible. The daily passerby made no comment and outwardly seemed to take no notice, but the team and the police with them could feel the suspicious-curious eyes on them, sizing up whether to be grateful or begrudging of their intrusion. There was no extra noise, commotion, or attention drawn, and yet it was still easy to fear that the whole operation might be given away; they would be in place a long time and any small tell might be seen by their adversaries and allow them to take flight without being caught.

Hotch, Joyner, and JJ were at one end of the street in their SUV, scanning their surroundings and seeing nothing, all the while staying in radio contact with Rossi, Prentiss, and Reid on the far opposite corner of the Park. There were plainclothes officers and other agents stationed between their two groups posing as average citizens selling hot dogs and floral bouquets, or just coming to see the concert and speakers. Reid's eyes were rapidly moving behind binoculars as he scanned the tree line of the park that he could see and the people hustling and bustling more and more quickly as the day wore on.

Cars and trucks, bikes and skateboards all came and went, filling in the spaces between their nondescript vehicles and a crowd began to gather on the lawn before the pavilion, while techs began to set up microphones and speakers on the stage and began running sound checks. "It's show time," Rossi spoke softly under his breath to Reid and Prentiss, or perhaps only to himself, as his eyes narrowed, studying the scene outside of his window even more carefully. "They're here," he continued murmuring softly, "The question is, will they still strike?"

No sooner had the question left his mouth than there was a general stir outside and several limos and fancy sports cars began to pull up; shouts of excitement and recognition came from the crowd as the famous acts began to arrive. Reid continued to let his binoculars scan the watching crowd, knowing that it would well be the famous targets that their cell would attack – it would certainly gain them the most impact and exposure. Emily's eyes followed along the same lines Reid's took, lingering after his curious glance, searching for anything out of place.

An oddly strange movement caught her eyes, someone separating from the crowd that stood out. Prentiss had just opened her mouth to say, 'There! Possible suspect moving towards the limos!' and reached for the door to get out even as she pointed, when two other bodies materialized from the crowd to flank the first and shots began to ring out.

"I see them!" Reid yelped anxiously, following her from the vehicle on his side. Rossi radioed quickly to Hotch, Joyner, and JJ – knowing that from their angle they probably hadn't seen what was happening yet. Screams rang out as the gunfire continued and people began scattering in every direction like a river breaking free and flooding from a burst dam. One limo's door slammed shut again just as it was about to open and then sped off, another lingered in danger as one of the bodyguards to some dignitary or performer who had already gotten out was felled and his employer obviously wouldn't leave their protector wounded and defenseless but feared to do anything to help him either.

Emily zeroed in on the situation in a millisecond and joined the fray, heading for the stalled car, intending to cover the wounded man long enough to get him back in the vehicle, and then send them to the hospital. Reid was right behind her, his service revolver drawn as well, covering her. She felt invincible somehow, just then, even trying to run against the frenzied rush of people and heading into mass chaos toward the still unidentified gunmen, she was reassured knowing that Spencer had her back.

Reaching the man's side, she found him conscious and trying to get up, though he had taken a bullet in the shoulder and another in the leg and was having very little success. The window in the car they were crouched beside rolled down a bare inch or two. "Darryl, are you out there?!" a panicked female voice called, "Oh God, they've killed him!" sounded next as though she were speaking to someone else in the car.

"Ma'am!" Emily called to her, her voice strong and authoritative, hoping to keep the person inside from growing anymore hysterical. "Your bodyguard isn't dead, but he had been wounded. I'm Agent Emily Prentiss, FBI, and I need you to open your door enough to help me get him inside and then you'll need to get him to a hospital. Understood?"

For a second there was no answer, and then the car door inched open and a stylish blond leaned out to meet Emily's eyes and receive instructions. She scooted to the far side of the limo's backseat and guided Darryl's head and shoulders, as between he and Emily's strength he stood and managed to get inside and lie down across the seat.

"Thank you," the woman said earnestly, her eyes meeting Emily's and holding them gratefully for a few moments before Emily backed away, swung the door shut, and waved them out of the surrounding melee. She had holstered her gun during the struggled to get the wounded man out of this mess, knowing Reid was still behind her. Now she glanced around, shocked and surprised to see that she had went into a sort of vacuum on her rescue mission and lost her sense of all that had been going on around her. She no longer saw the shooters she had spotted when this all started; just people running helter-skelter everywhere. She shot a glance at Reid over her shoulder, to see him with his gun still drawn, sweeping the area with his eyes again as he stood protectively guarding their flank. She had opened her mouth to both thank him and then radio Rossi to see if they'd had better luck catching their targets, when she saw one of the shooters emerge from the crowd again, much closer than before and taking aim at Reid.

She realized it was happening in an instant, calling out to him as she launched her body into motion. "Spencer, get down!" she vaguely heard her own voice cry out as she flung herself forward, slamming into him in a running leap and sending them both tumbling to the ground as a rain of gunshots rang out. She heard shots being returned to her left and could only hope that it was Dave, or Hotch and JJ joining them as backup and not more of their terrorists closing in. She felt the burning heat of a bullet sinking into shoulder, branding her with pain, and bit her lip to keep from crying out, letting only a guttural moan and deflated breath escape her.

Glancing down, she saw Spencer's wide, fawn-colored eyes gazing into hers, awestruck. He reached out to brush her hair from her forehead and searched her face. "Em, why did you do that? Are you okay? That was stupid; you could have been –"

"I am," she whispered shakily, rolling off him and trying to stand, but feeling her knees give, weak and wobbly.

He shot upright, taking her with him and cradling her against his side. "You shouldn't have done that! Where are you hit? We need to get you out of here!" Reid was rambling franticly as he looked around, surveying where it would be safest for them to go. He was doing a reasonably believable version of Morgan in highly overprotective mode, which would have been funny if Emily hadn't felt like screaming in agony from her shoulder wound. "It's just my shoulder," she tried to grit out, forcing him to hold her gaze and calm down. "And look who's talking about stupid risks. Wasn't that you who was almost blown to pieces pulling me out of an explosive-rigged building a few days ago?"

Reid however, was not about to be placated or put off by humor and her making light of her injury. "It's not the same thing. You've been _shot_, Emily. I am getting you out of here."

"Reid, wait! If those shooters are still here, we can't just let them get away…" But Reid was already walking her back towards the SUVs and radioing for an ambulance. Emily looked around herself more closely, as Reid obviously wasn't going to change his mind and she was rapidly sapping of strength to fight him on it. It was then that she saw there wasn't much left for them to do anyway. The park and surrounding street were nearly emptied of people; the rest of their team and the New York officers with them were checking the injured and possible casualties, cuffing suspects, and rapidly bringing everything back under control with impressive efficiency. Before she could argue with him anymore about them being needed there, JJ appeared at her elbow, touching her lightly to get her attention.

"Rossi said I'm supposed to drive you two to the hospital so we can get your shoulder checked out." JJ informed her, giving Reid a pleased look over her shoulder. "No arguments. He said someone should look at your shoulder as soon as possible to make sure there's no permanent muscle or nerve damage, and that they have things under control here."

"Fine," Emily conceded, secretly glad as her wound was only burning and paining her more with each passing minute and her head was spinning. "No use arguing with the boss."

Reid smirked down at her, opening the back door of the SUV and gently helping her in, noticing the way she was weakly tripping over her own feet and struggled to get up into the vehicle. "Right, and you would be doing so much good here anyway, when you can barely stand on your own." He couldn't help teasing her just a little; she always felt she had to prove how strong she was.

She shot him a withering glare as he climbed in beside her and buckled them both in while JJ started the engine and pulled away from the curb. "Shut up, Spence," Emily grumbled as he watched her, knowing he was right and she needed to rest. There was no real animosity behind her words however, and they both knew it.

JJ wasn't surprised at all a few minutes later, when she glanced into the rearview mirror to check on them and saw that Emily was out, eyes closed but still breathing visibly and steadily as her head rested on Reid's shoulder. Reid was carefully putting pressure on the wound, knowing it wasn't drastically serious, but keeping her from losing more blood than was necessary as he also whispered unheard comforting words into her hair.

JJ smiled to herself, returning her eyes to the road. She had never thought she would see the day. Reid was a dear friend, but she had wondered if he'd ever find someone he could trust and be comfortable enough with to let go of his nervous tics and awkwardness, and fiercely self-protective independence, and simply be himself. When Emily had joined their team, JJ had seen rather quickly that Emily was more like Reid than many people would realize – and had been wondering ever since when, and if, the two of them would see it.

Lightly caressing her stomach and speaking to the little one she carried inside, a large grin crossed JJ's face as she spoke to her unborn child, "I think they've finally figured it out."


	12. Chapter 11

(Hello all! I hope this finds all my readers well. I'm pleased to inform you that this story is nearing the finish line. It was an interesting stretch to write something that was meant to be a guess at what would happen when season four began, and then try to continue it when it ended up being a guess that was completely far off. I appreciate everyone reading and reviewing, and this isn't the very last chapter. There will be one more yet. Enjoy! Hope you're all having a great summer. As always, they're not mine and neither is the show. Morgan and Garcia would still flirt with each other and Kevin would have left for that other job if I owned the show.)

Trial by Fire

Chapter Eleven

Hotch and Rossi were left with Joyner and the rest of her force to clear up the attack site and put things back to rights. The danger was past and most of their cell were wounded, or rounded up and in custody waiting for questioning. It hadn't been perfect, a few individuals had almost certainly gotten away, and neither of the BAU team leaders were naïve enough to think that they wouldn't go somewhere else and possibly even rebuild. However, since this rally had been their intended target, most of them had been caught in their net and the reign of terror they'd had here in the Big Apple was broken and any immediate plans the cell had had for more strikes would have to be scrapped for the foreseeable future. In this modern fight against terrorism, it was realistically the best outcome they could have hoped for. The shootings they had come to stop were at an end, now they just had to discover which players they had in custody, what their role in the cell had been, and how to attempt to prevent these sorts of attacks from happening again.

On the ride back to the station, they began dividing up the perpetrators that had to question, the paperwork they would have to complete before they could leave the case in their New York counterparts' capable hands, and discussing when it would be possible for all the members of their team to return to Quantico with them.

It was at the end of this conversation and as they pulled up to the curb to park outside the station that Kate stopped them from her place in the passenger seat, looking at first Hotch, then Rossi in the back, and holding their gazes, adding emphasis to her words. She spoke quietly, words neither man figured were easy for her to utter, but she obviously meant what she said when she spoke. "Thank you, both of you. I could not have cracked this case in time without the help of your team. You have quite literally saved my job for me, and I cannot thank you enough. I know I might not be the easiest person to work with – but I appreciate your efforts."

Rossi nodded simply, his eyes warm and full of understanding as he offered her a simple, "We were glad to do it," and stepped out of the vehicle.

Kate smiled easily at him, and as he made his exit, turned her eyes back to Hotch. "Aaron, I meant what I said. Your team obviously deserves their reputation for being one of the best the BAU has, and it has certainly been a pleasure to work with you again."

He smiled back at her, giving her hand a quick squeeze before he replied, "As Dave said, we were glad we could be of help and stop them. And you're not that hard to work with; I've certainly had to deal with worse." Looking at her now, he felt a certain fondness for her and their shared history when they were both just beginning their law enforcement careers, and once, long ago, there might have been the chance for something more than comradery there. Now, however, all he could see was how very much she resembled Haley and reminded him of what he had lost and would be foolish to try to pursue again. Love and family were possibly something that couldn't be balanced with the job for him – unless it was in what he felt for his team. Instead, as they moved to leave the vehicle and follow Rossi inside, he simply added, "You're good at what you do, Kate. You deserve as much of a piece of this victory as anyone."

"That's kind of you, Aaron. If nothing else, I'm glad I will at least have more time and another chance to prove that to the higher-ups here." Her mouth had just a small quirk upwards to it as she spoke, giving him a knowing smile. There was a hint of wistfulness in her eyes, but mostly understanding that they were fully parting ways again. They both knew it was for the best, even if she would have given it a chance if he'd been open to their starting something. Aaron Hotchner was a man she'd be foolish to miss her chance with, if he gave her an opportunity.

"Oh, I have no doubt you'll prove yourself to them, no doubt at all. Just give it time," he assured her. They had reached the entrance to the station by then, and he opened and held the door for her. They both slipped inside and went back to work, more than ready to put this long, draining case behind them as soon as possible.

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At the hospital that afternoon, Morgan and Garcia were startled to have the afternoon snack of Carmello bars and graham crackers, which Derek had sweet talked Penelope into smuggling in for them from the downstairs vending machine, interrupted by JJ, Reid, and Prentiss with her right arm in a sling.

Morgan stuffed a huge square of chocolate and caramel into his mouth guiltily and then nearly choked on it, causing Penelope to giggle as she patted his back and offered him water, while the incriminating box of Honey Grahams and the uneaten Carmellos sat on her lap, giving them away despite his terrible effort to hide the evidence. Reid laughed uproariously, something that made both Morgan and Garcia watch him closely in pleased curiosity. He seemed open and unselfconscious in a way that they hadn't seen him before. Their younger colleague came forward on Morgan's other side as he coughed a few more times, making sure he hadn't really choked on his forbidden snacks.

"You're going to have to share with the pregnant and the injured," JJ smirked, holding out her hand for a square of candy and indicating herself and Prentiss as she did. "Otherwise I'll go and rat you out to the nurses."

"Those nurses don't scare me a bit," Morgan lied, a twinkle in his eyes that all of his friends were glad to see again. "I've got them eating out of my hands with the Derek Morgan charm."

"Please," Emily mocked playfully, rolling her eyes. "Just hand over the chocolate and nobody gets hurt."

Garcia began doling out treats to everyone as Emily settled one hip on the foot of Morgan's bed to half-lean, half-sit next to him. JJ stood next to her, and Reid stood on his other side, pouting good-naturedly that they needed marshmallows for their s'mores since marshmallows were the best part.

Morgan finished eating, brushed the crumbs of his hands and shot Prentiss a crooked smirk, eying the sling and the way she was subtly favoring her shoulder. "So, Emily, when exactly did you decide to challenge Reid's title as the accident-prone, danger-magnet team member? I'm not sure it's working for you."

"Har-dee-har-har," she responded sarcastically. "Look who's talking…"

Both of them were only joking and every one of them could laugh at their own accidents, injuries, and near-misses. It was the only way to stay thankful that the injuries weren't worse and fearless enough to continue putting it all on the line to do what they did.

"Seriously, though," Morgan asked, sobering when they quieted down again, "What happened? Are you alright?"

"Stray bullet when we were taking down the cell," she answered evasively, attempting off-handedness in her tone. "I'll be fine."

But Reid was having none of it, and she flushed and looked down to avoid Morgan and Garcia's gaping looks when he told them that she had jumped in the way of a bullet aimed for his head. When he finished, he was the one looking away from everyone's eyes until Emily reached across the bed and took his hand, intertwining their fingers and giving a comforting squeeze. "Given the choice between my shoulder or that invaluable brain of yours, I think my shoulder was the better option."

"So, when did this start?" Morgan interrupted their surprisingly public tender moment with a grin and waggling eyebrow that were positively wicked with mischievous delight. He nodded toward their joined hands meaningfully, his expression telling them that he would pester them like a dog with a bone until he got an answer.

"I think it's been going on longer than even they realized," JJ added with a wink, piling fuel on the fire with her knowing look.

Emily and Reid gave each other cautiously guarded glances, not sure how much they wanted to share with even their friends, especially with the teasing they were already going to receive just from Morgan knowing about them at all. Plus, it was hard to describe. After the explosion, something gravitational had happened, pulling them together irresistibly, but without conscious thought or design. How could a person really explain that, and should they even try?

Penelope broke in just then and saved them from attempting to answer. "Don't listen to my Scrumptious Superman here," she teased, giving him a smirk and smiling broadly at the rest of them. "He's too nosey for his own good. I think it's great, and besides, I imagine that it happened the same way it did for he and I. You're friends; you literally trust each other with your lives, and when you realized that you need each other, then it was clear just how deeply that need ran."

Reid met her eyes, relief and confirmation in his gaze; she obviously understood exactly. Prentiss merely gave her a slight nod of thanks and agreement, shaking her head jokingly in mock exasperation at JJ and Morgan's overzealous interest. "Yeah, something like that," she managed to affirm in a somehow dazed, surprised-sounding voice.

Soon after, their conversation returned to what the three of them had come to do, which was to update Morgan and Garcia on the day's events and the status of the case. It felt good to be able to tell them that though there had been injuries, no innocent people had been killed, and also that though they knew the whole cell hadn't been captured, they had certainly been thwarted and would have to go underground to regroup – effectively finishing them for the time being and drawing this case to a close.

"So, Hotch and Rossi were still at the station interrogating the suspects you brought in?" Morgan assumed correctly.

JJ nodded, "We would have been there too, but Emily's shoulder needed to be checked out, and we backed off a bit to allow Joyner and her officers to take a larger role in wrapping things up. Hotch and Rossi more than have it under control anyway."

What neither JJ, nor anyone else, said aloud was that they were all simply glad to be finished with this case and leaving it behind. There had been too many times when losing one of their own had come too close for comfort; too many times they had been forced to think about what their lives and their team would be like without one of it's members. It would be even better than usual to board the jet and go home to try to forget how close they had come to tragedy. They remained instead in a comfortable silence until Reid asked Morgan how physical therapy was going and when he thought he would be allowed to fly back to Quantico.

"I won't be able to fly back when the rest of you do," Morgan answered. "They're still monitoring several things, and getting ready to have the first of two skin grafts I'll have to receive before I can leave here without risking serious infection. But they tell me I'm healing remarkably well and if everything continues the way it is now, I could be flying home within six weeks. The rest of the treatment and therapy I can get there as well as here."

"That's good news," Prentiss said genuinely, resting her good hand on his knee for a moment. "We've missed having you right in the middle of things with us."

Morgan chuckled, "And I've missed being there with you guys. Not to mention you and Reid have an awful lot of close calls when you're left to fend for yourselves!"

The two agents both opened their mouths to argue his statement indignantly, then considered the sheepish blush spreading over Spencer's face, Emily's arm in a sling and the bruising still darkening the flesh under her chin and her swollen lip, and instead let themselves laugh with their teammates at their own expense. It was true. They had gotten the job done, but not without a few dangerous scrapes this time around. Both of them had been forced to take on a different role, purposefully getting right in the thick of the action, with this case.

"Are you going to be able to return to the field?" Reid asked hesitantly, knowing it was a volatile, potentially painful question, but one that they were all thinking and trying not to address. It was nearly impossible to imagine Morgan chained to a desk job for the rest of his career, and they knew it had to be constantly on his mind. Reid knew he might be opening a can of worms and ruining the pleasant moment they were all having, but he had to know, and whichever way it went, Morgan probably needed to share it as well.

"My physical therapist has warned me that I'll have a lot of restrictions for a awhile, which I'm sure will be frustrating and drive me crazy, but I should be able to return to the field in time. According to her, my rehab is going even better than she'd hoped, but it's not working nearly as quickly as I want it to," Morgan told them.

All three of his teammates breathed a silent sigh of relief at his words. It would have been too cruel for Morgan to have survived all this and been denied the ability to continue doing what made him who he was. Just as Garcia had predicted long ago, he'd be back to tackling unsubs, roughing up difficult suspects in interrogation, and putting people who brought darkness like what nearly all of them had suffered in their pasts away; making the world just one small bit safer.

JJ, Reid, and Prentiss said their goodbyes and left soon after, promising to return the next day before they flew out, and to bring Garcia's laptop with them when they came. When the two of them were alone again, Morgan looked at Garcia and gave her a soft, honest smile around the huge lump in his throat. "It is all going to be okay…" he finally spoke hoarsely, as if just now letting himself believe it.

Eyes shining, Penelope returned his smile and leaned over to kiss him firmly. "Yes, it really is, Cupcake. You did it. You hung in there and you're making it through. I knew you would."

He brought his hand up to cradle her face, stopping her from pulling away at the end of the kiss. His voice was a warm, enveloping murmur now. "No, it wasn't me, Sugar Lips. That right there…_you_ believing in me, _your_ trust that things would work out alright…_that_ was what pulled me through. You're the one who managed a miracle."

She parted her lips to argue with him, to insist that he had more fighting spirit and determination than he even knew, but his tongue slipped past her defenses, teasing her, as his hands tangled in her blonde curls, and drew her into a fervent kiss with a need and gratitude that took her breath away. Happily she let her eyes close, her lips dance with his, and accepted his thanks, letting him have the last word – for the moment, at least.


	13. Chapter 12: Epilogue

_Well, folks, we've come to the end of the story at last. I honestly did not mean to string this out for almost a year, but I'm really thankful to the readers and reviewers that have hung in there and stuck with this one all this time! I hope the ending lives up to what you've expected for it and I hope to have something else totally new to post for you soon. I still don't own them, of course, but I do still like pretending I have a say in what they do for a little while. Thanks again for reading!_

Trial by Fire

Epilogue – Chapter Twelve

_One year later…_

Derek Morgan was barely winded as his feet pounded on the pavement of the back alley he was racing down in pursuit of the suspect. This guy was as good as caught and didn't even know it yet. This was the first case Morgan had been reinstated to full active duty for, and he wasn't wasting a second in returning to his full-throttle action tactics and the place on the team that he'd long ago staked out as his own.

The suspect took a sharp right turn ahead of him, and Morgan swung around the corner only seconds behind him, then ducked quickly, just in time to avoide the rusty old pipe the unsub swung at his head, having gone on the offensive and turned and waited to strike at him. Reacting on well-forged reflexes, Morgan came out of the crouch position with fists raised and caught his target on the chin with his first punch. The guy went down like a sack of potatoes, proving once again that it was always those who seemed toughest who ended up having the glass jaw. He liked this part of his job – he was good at it – and he was glad to be back.

He got the cuffs on the guy just as Hotch and Emily came barrelling up behind them on foot, and he began to haul their suspect to his feet while the guy complained loudly about police brutality and when did the Feds start thinking they were action heroes? Hotch said nothing, but in the slightly disapproving shaking of his head, Morgan could see the barely contained smile in his boss' eyes. Prentiss wasn't even trying to hide the grin she was giving him over the suspect's shoulder, and Morgan cheekily returned her smile.

"Police brutality pleas won't get you too far," Morgan growled in the man's ear, all playfulness gone as he got his prisoner moving towards the cruiser parked back where the chase had begun, "when I share how you nearly took my head off with that pipe."

Soon the suspect was in custody, headed back to the station for questioning from the squalid house where they had received a tip that he was staying in. Morgan had every intention of interrogating the scumbag, more sure than ever that he was their guy, and hoped that Prentiss might work the old 'good cop, bad cop' routine with him in interrogation. She closely resembled their three victims: a young teacher, a secretary, and a librarian. All lovely intelligent brunettes who quietly kept to themselves and had yet had the unfortunate commonality of having attracted the attention of a sexual sadist who had stalked, harassed, and eventually broken in to rape and strangle them to death in their own homes near Westchester, OH, where they had now finally tracked him down. If she played at having some sympathy and understanding for his plight, there was no doubt in Morgan's mind that this lunatic would let down his defenses, make a mistake, and give Morgan all the opportunity he needed to pounce and catch him in a lie.

Piling back into the SUVs with Prentiss, Hotch, JJ, Reid, and Rossi, Morgan couldn't help feeling the buzz of an adrenaline high that he'd been missing for so long. All his senses were on full alert, his muscles were just pleasantly stretched and alive, and he felt a sense of pride and accomplishment that they had caught this monster and he'd had a hand in taking him off the street. Leaning back against the seat, he breathed in a deep, satisfied breath and closed his eyes for just a moment, reflecting how glad he was to be right there, back in the field with his team where he belonged. Opening his eyes again, he surveyed the rest of them as he listened to Reid and Emily discussing the late-night showing of the new "Star Trek" movie they'd caught the night before and chuckled himself as he saw Rossi shaking his head at the both of them. This was exactly the sort of thing he had missed, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

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Hours later, as early evening crept across the sky, Derek was pleasantly surprised to actually be heading home with Penelope at a decent hour. Barring any unexpected calls from JJ, they might have the whole weekend to themselves. All their current cases were solved, most of the paperwork was caught up, and he'd finished his last session of physical therapy the week before. Unbelievably, for once, everyone in their lives seemed to be healthy and well. Needless to say, it was rare that things were this right in the world they lived in and they hadn't had this much time for just the two of them since he'd been hospitalized almost a year ago.

"So, Mama," he asked her happily, slinging an arm over her shoulders and pulling her closer as they walked out of the FBI building and into the parking lot, "what are we gonna do with a whole weekend off?"

She chuckled, leaning ino him readily, giddy with the possibilities of having two days alone with him to cleanse her mind of the horrific and disturbing images constantly cluttering it and replace them with some good memories instead. To have him happy, healed, and feeling like himself again – and still there beside her – seemed almost more than she could have hoped for. Waggling an eyebrow at him lasciviously, she merely giggled and said, "Oh, I can think of a few things, Hot Stuff…" and let her thought trail off suggestively.

His perfect grin grew wider, crinkling the laughlines she loved and stirring up the twinkle that lit his eyes. "Have I told you lately how much I love that naughty brain of yours, Baby Girl?"

"Hmm…" she mused teasingly, pretending to seriously consider his question before quipping, "Not in the last eight hours anyway."

By then they were easily laughing together and had reached where Esther and his motorcycle were parked side-by-side where they had left them that morning. "What would you say to a spin on the bike before we go home? Esther will be alright here in the lot for one night."

"That sounds like an excellent plan, Gorgeous," she answered, giving him a wink, and already moving to reach for the leopard-print design helmet in her car's backseat that he'd bought especially for her when she rode with him. She stuck it on over her riotous blond mane, strapped it under her chin, and turned back to him, grinning at him adorably from under the brim. "Let's do it!"

And a few minutes later they were flying down the highway, lost in the dark and set free by the wildness and thrill of the ride; the cool wind in their faces and whipping through her hair, refreshing their spirits. Penelope let out a gleeful whoop of joy that was almost immediately snatched away in the breeze, but Derek smiled at the sense of excitement radiating off of her and the way her hands clutched around his waist as she held on. Morgan took the long way – drawing out the trip they were both enjoying so much before heading back to his apartment. When they did eventually swing into the parking lot, stop, and get off the bike, they were both windblown, but laughing and energized; thrilled to be alive and out in the night together.

Taking her hand, he led Garcia up to the front door and into the familiar apartment; one that was no longer quiet, lonely, and empty of all but the furniture and basic masculine necessities. Her bright variety of purses and scarves colorfully festooned the coat hooks in his hallway. Leftovers of different recipes she'd successfully cooked for him joined the sparse six-pack, Chinese take-out container, and occasional steak that used to be all his refridgerator had held. Her collector comics, graphic novels, and fantasy-adventure sagas had joined his Vonnegut and Michael Crichton books on the shelves and her chick flick dvds were scattered across the coffee table. In the last year, she'd become a part of his life to an extent that he'd never thought anyone would. And he loved her for it; he was so glad that she had shown him he was able to let someone in fully, able to allow them to help him because he didn't always have to be strong. She had changed him, and he didn't want to be who he was before. A blessing in disguise had come from his catastrophe.

"Okay, Handsome," her voice lilting lightly in play broke into his serious thoughts like a ray of sunlight through clouds, "you suggested riding the bike home, which makes it my turn to decide what we're doing next, by my calculations."

"Absolutely, Goddess," Morgan agreed, turning on the charm as he pulled her close to steal a kiss and then got wrapped up in it and nearly distracted them both from even moving beyond the entryway. When he finally pulled away he added cheekily, "no matter how wicked it is, your wish is my command."

"Oh, normally I'd try to make y ou regret that statement," she smirked mischeivously, "but I'm too ready for us both to have some fun tonight."

"I like the sound of that," Morgan chuckled, patiently awaiting instructions, while promising himself that he would be as good as his word and let her take the lead.

"Okay then, if you're so eager, go find us some mood music and make yourself comfortable and I'll be right there," she winked.

When he turned towards his bedroom to do as she asked, Garcia watched the swagger that was gradually returning to his step as he walked away. That was a good sign, and if things continued to go her way tonight, he'd be even more sure of himself by the time she was finished with him. Making sure he was gone and couldn't see what she was up to, Penelope snuck over to where he had tossed his jacket, holster, and other work things, grabbed what she needed, and followed the path he'd taken moments before, ready to put her plan into action.

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Once Morgan reached the bedroom, he eagerly toed off his shoes and tossed them toward his closet, then crossed the room towards his dresser where the stereo sat and finally settled on starting some sultry r&b in the background. He heard Garcia enter the room behind him just as he had reached out to flick the lights before pulling his black T-shirt off over his head. Light was still coming in from the living room, so he knew she could see where she was going, but though he hated to admit it, even to himself, ever since his accident he wanted the lights out. Neither of them – especially her, he was sure, wanted to look at the scars that weren't ever going to fully fade running down his side, chest, and hip. He'd once been possibly even a little vain about how women seemed to react to his good looks, but now he knew he wasn't so breath-taking, at least not in the good way that he'd once been. Really, he was just trying to bypass her having to see them and pretend it was okay. He actually thought he had done a pretty good job of being inconspicuous about his change in preferences and had managed to keep her from sensing his insecurity.

He should have known better. Seconds after entering the room, Penelope was on him, kissing him ravenously, like a woman starving for food and suddenly finding a feast. Her hands lightly brushed his face before skimming his neck and coming to rest on his shoulders as she pushed him back towards the bed. His knees came in contact with the mattress forcefully enough to send him toppling backwards, sprawled on the bed with her on top, just as she had intended. She wriggled against him as she ordered him to lie back and stop talking when he spoke to try to slow her down. Excitement stirred in his stomach as she gave him orders, an unusual occurrence that should have been a warning to him that something was up, but instead only served to turn him on powerfully.

Penelope took one of his hands and pulled it towards her, lightly kissing the pulse point in his wrist before letting her lovely pink tongue flick out to lap at his skin, causing him to take in a sharp hiss of a breath and to worry that he wasn't going to be able to hold out if she kept this up.

But arousal quickly turned to surprised concern as he suddenly felt her pull his arm up to the bed's wooden post and felt the cool metal of his own handcuffs click securely closed around his wrist. He moved immediately to jerk the captured hand away from his headboard, but she'd been stealthier than he'd realized and the movement was only brought up short and ended in merely rattling the wooden headboard and alerting him that he wasn't going anywhere. "Pen, what the -?!" he started, only to have her confuse him even more when she slid away from him, stood, and crossed the room again to turn the lights back on.

"What are you doing? Turn the lights back off and get over here and finish what you started!" He would admit she had his heart pounding desperately, but it was suddenly more in panic than pleasure, which irritated him immensely as he rattled the handcuffs' chain again futilely, finding only that they were just as strong when used against him as they had always been when he'd used them in the line of duty. He didn't like feeling vulnerable and helpless; he knew it, she knew it, and it seemed that now that weakness was going to come back to bite him.

"Nope, my rules, Honey Buns, and I want them on," she said as she watched him testing the cuffs' strength. "I wanted to see you, and I knew you didn't want to let me, so that's why I used your handcuffs. You're just going to have to relax and accept it. Trust me, this will be good for you."

"Penelope…" he growled warningly, barely gritting the word out between his teeth. He was making a good show of anger, but in reality nervous beads of perspiration were dotting his forehead as he realized she was serious about this, she wasn't going to let him go, and she was coming back towards him. "You'd better watch out, Mama. I've still got one free hand," he warned.

"Oh, hush, Stud Muffin, would you just lie back and listen to me?" She crawled back onto the bed beside him, licking her lips hungrily as she took in the muscles straining in his neck and shoulders and the nervous way she could see a shudder ripple through his sculpted, rock-hard abs every so often. "You've been hiding your luscious, tempting self from me in the dark for quite a while now, and I've been letting it go; let you think you're getting away with it. But enough is enough. You have no reason to hide. And if I have to trap you this way to get a chance to prove it to you, well, obviously I will."

"Garcia, come on," he whispered hoarsely, giving up struggling and instead appealing to the sympathetic side of her nature, the false anger and blustering banter gone from his voice now and desperate appeal replacing it against his will, "…please…just…"

"Look at me," she ordered firmly, suddenly serious instead of gently teasing him, and taking his chin in her hands and forcing him to look at her face-to-face. "Look me right in the eyes, Derek."

He did as he was told, not having much choice but to do as she asked. To his surprise, what he saw in her gaze changed him all over again, warmed and reassured him from the inside out.

"Are you really looking? Do you see what I've been telling you for a year now? I love you, Derek Morgan. I love every part of you; your gorgeous, loving heart, your charm, your magnetism, the way you make me feel like no one else ever has. I love the laughlines that crinkle up around your eyes, I love your smile, I love your lips, I love your voice, I love your tattoos, and your arms, and _every single inch _of your _beautiful _chocolate skin. Do you understand me? Really? Because I mean it; there's nothing about you I would change. You're sexy and attractive and strong and honest and you're mine. You're perfect to me and you have to understand that. I can't bear to know you're looking at yourself so differently from how I see you…" Her musical voice stopped then, but she wasn't truly finished.

As Morgan reached out to muss his free hand into her blond hair and pull her in for a kiss, she returned it briefly, but then pulled away to stroke her hand lightly along his face and neck to his shoulder where there was a slight discoloration from the skin graft and burns that would always be there. Going slowly, letting her lips linger, she kissed that spot and whispered, "You're so beautiful, Derek. I love you."

Then she continued her journey down the more deeply scarred path of his side, placing soft, slow, lingering kisses over the roughly healed but now forever marked skin of his ribs all the way to his waist, where the jeans he was still wearing stopped her, repeating her words of love and adoration as she went. Her lips caressed, soothed, and how much she treasured even his scars in a way that words alone never could. Tears welled up silently in Morgan's eyes and he couldn't help that they eventually spilled over and trailed down one cheek. Finally, he understood what she had been trying to say to him for so long. She truly did still like to look at him, still found him handsome, and still wanted him. He didn't understand it, but he also finally shed the feeling of disgust for himself that he'd been carrying around and stopped fearing that she was secretly repulsed by the changes fire had wrought on his body as she willingly kissed the places he had feared the most. Just as he would find her beautiful no matter what; she had extended him the same grace without even thinking twice.

"Penelope," he whispered as she crawled back towards the head and cuddled her body up against his, leaning in to nuzzle her face into the crook of his neck. "I…I don't know what to say…"

"Just tell me you believe me. That understand…and you realize that you don't need to hide – not from me."

He let his eyes meet hers, connecting his soul and hers in the deep, intense gaze between them. Thinking back over all that had happened in the last year, all they'd been through and conquered together, and how she'd been right by his side all the way, he knew there was nothing he could do but believe that the strength of the two of them to overcome anything together would never change. It had been a long trial by fire, one nearly enough to break him. But when her by his side, he'd found the strength to press on. And now he had more in his life than he could have imagined possible. Pulling her even tighter to his side, Morgan held Penelope tight, holding her as though he would never let her go, then said the only thing he really could, "Thank you, Penelope, for everything. I love you too."


End file.
